


Night Eternal

by morggy (formerlyhere)



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: Angst, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Gothic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 63,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formerlyhere/pseuds/morggy
Summary: A canon rewrite set in 1979, before the revelation. A college girl goes missing in the woods and is found by the new owner of the local haunted house. When her boss sends her to interview the sick man who cannot be out during the day time, Sookie walks into a very strange story, though maybe no stranger than herself. Originally posted on my wordpress blog.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mention of drugs and alcohol. Sexual situations. Death and minor violence.
> 
> English is my second language - no betas. Read at your risk.

 

It was October 1979 and the temperature dropped as the sun started to hide behind the tallest buildings in the Pine Vale. Music and laughter filtered out into the night through the open door – the sudden cutting wind coming from the woods made me halt in the threshold and wrap my coat tighter around myself before I cast my arm behind me, searching for the handle so I could close the door while my friends shouted and laughed behind me - their good nights and well wishes indistinguishable as they talked one over the other and the _Bee Gees_ blared in the background.

Silence prevailed as I stepped off the porch onto the paved driveway. I shrunk my shoulders reflexively against the unusual cold, while I fumbled with my pockets for my _Camel Lights_. I walked to my car and leaned back against it as I fished for my lighter out of the front pocket on my jeans. I needed a minute to regroup.

I always needed a minute to regroup after that kind of noise. It seemed like it affected me more than most people – it gave me awful migraines. I didn’t talk about them anymore as I’d been told I was a kill joy – always wanting to leave parties when everybody else was having fun. But it was true – it was always as though, in the middle of so many voices, I could hear duplicates.

It began about the time I was 15, and at first I brushed it off as my own imagination. I could hear voices, little whispers here and there – it was sporadic at best in the first two years. Then, in 1973, _The Exorcist_ came out and I started going out of my mind, thinking I was hearing demons or ghosts. Eventually I came to realize what I could hear where living people’s thoughts.

It’s _insane_ , I know. But it’s true. Once I stopped panicking about it and actually started paying attention, I could recognize the voices. It took me  a while to figure it out because, for some reason, I couldn’t hear those closest to me – _at first_. Then the migraines started, it triggered unexplainable behavior, my parents took me to doctors and psychiatrists. I was afraid I was going to end up like Regan in that awful movie, being treated like I had some mental illness doctors came up with to explain what they couldn’t.

Around the time I was 18 and with tremendous effort, I convinced my parents and grandmother and brother, that I was alright – that the treatment had worked. It was a lie. Gran knew – sometimes, I would catch her looking at me after I had what I called _an experience_. I would hear something particularly sudden and shocking and I’d jerk my head up and look around for the source. She caught me – but she wouldn’t say anything about it.

I think my brother and my parents were content to believe I wasn’t crazy anymore.

I was content to pretend.

So, after spending the better portion of the day in a house full of people, music, talking and _thoughts_ , I took a deep, deep breath and closed my eyes, taking a puff of my cigarette and enjoying the sounds of _nothing_.

It was almost fully dark, but I could see a few hues of orange and red just above the tops of the trees in front of me. I turned around to peer behind me into the passenger seat of my car, making a canopy over my eyes to block the lights coming from the front of the house, trying to check if I’d brought my camera with me. I sighed sadly. It would have been a nice picture.

The front door opened again, and noise and music spilled all over my silence. I turned back around to see who was coming – it was Dawn Green. Wrapped around her was JB DuRone, both looking a little drunk, and perhaps a little high too. I smiled tightly as they stumbled past me, laughing like fools. I’m not sure they even noticed me.

I avoided drugs around that time. It’s not that I was a total square – but I could swear last time I tried something, it made my condition _worse_. Alcohol was less of a problem and at least nicotine didn’t worsen it at all – I took another drag of my ciggie and exhaled, watching the little cloud of smoke hover in front of me before disappearing into nothing.

Dawn and JB stumbled into his jeep and drove away, honking and laughing loudly into the night. I frowned and hoped they didn’t cause any accidents.

Thinking about car accidents reminded me of my job and I sighed, tossing my smoke on the ground and stomping on it, to extinguish the flame. Within minutes I was in my car, driving back home.

Back then I shared a two-storey townhouse with my former college roommate Amelia. It was located in the old town center, close to everything a girl could need. We had great years in that house, in that city – it seems like so long ago now.

I got out of my car, still amazed it could be this cold and I jogged across the street to get to the front steps. All lights were off, but this wasn’t unusual – it was a Saturday and Amelia was most likely with her Wiccan friends doing whatever it was that they did.

But as I reached the large oak door I stopped with the keys in my hand and frowned – there was a note stuck to the brass knocker. I immediately knew it wasn’t going to be from Amelia – as a rule, our notes were always on the refrigerator door. I swiped the piece of paper and stuck the key in the keyhole to unlock the front door.

Once inside I shrugged my coat off to hang in the closet by the door and hopped on one foot and then the other to get rid of my boots. I walked on just my socks into the living room and flopped down the couch, folding one leg underneath me and leaned back as I unfolded the thick, yellow piece of paper.

It was a note from my boss at the _Chronicle_ , asking me to call his house phone as soon as I made it home.

I frowned, staring at the handwritten note. It was Saturday night – what could have warranted Mr. Nichols driving to my house and making such a demand from a simple junior writer?

Because I couldn’t stand the suspense, I did just what his note asked of me and I bolted out of the couch and walked across the foyer into the kitchen where our telephone was, stuck to the wall by the kitchen island. I leaned my knee on the sitting stool we kept by the phone and dialed the number the boss had jotted down on his note. I only had to wait for two rings – the wife answered.

“Hello, may I speak to Mr. Nichols, please? It’s Sookie Stackhouse.”

I waited for a brief moment, staring around in my kitchen, feeling the adrenaline kicking in – for some reason, I knew whatever had caused him to come to me was going to be something different – maybe something good. At that time, I lived for a _break_ , for the story that would put me on the map as a journalist. Was this it?

_“Stackhouse!_ ” Mr. Nichols barked into the phone. _“Goodness you’re home at last!”_

“Ah… hi Mr. Nichols… I… found your note.” I stuttered, failing completely to sound stable and professional – the man always made me nervous. “What can I do for you, sir?”

_“We have a story. Are you familiar with what the kids in your college called the Murder House?”_

I had to roll my eyes and swallow a snort. There were so many “murder houses” in America, it was really unoriginal. But I knew the one he was talking about, it _was_ quite popular among my college peers.

“You speak of the old Landry House at the edge of the woods.”

_“Yes!”_ he barked with satisfaction. _“The Landry House! That’s the one. Although I suppose we can’t call it that anymore… or Murder House. It’s been bought, there has been someone living in it for the better part of the year!”_

“Really?” I frowned curiously. That was really surprising, the house, which I had never seen the inside of, looked old and decrepit – hence its popularity as a murder house, a haunted house, or even cursed house. “I… had no idea…”  I looked around the kitchen, feeling my shoulders sagging. “Is this the story?”

_“No!”_ barked my boss impatiently. _“That’s not the story. Well, it’s part of it, I suppose. There was an attack tonight. Freshman year student disappears during a hazing party, you know how that goes!”_

“What happened?” I perked up with interest.

_“Sorority girls drinking in the woods that’s what happened. One of them got lost – when her friends went looking for her they found blood and signs of struggle. They called the police. They searched everywhere. Around four in the morning they receive a call from the current resident of the Landry House – he claimed he found her in the woods. The police dropped by the house to pick her up. We have a new town hero, I suppose.”_

“Oh… so is the girl alright?” I asked.

_“Yes, she’s fine, she’s just shaken. Doctors examined her and she’s fine. But we want the story, we want to know what happened to her and how did the man find her in the first place. I’m sending you in to talk to him. It has to be tonight – that’s how we get an exclusive.”_

“Uh… _tonight_? Okay…” adrenaline kicked in again.

_“Now get a pen and paper… I have instructions for you.”_

“Fine…” I fumbled around to get the notepad and pen we kept on a shelf near the phone. “So… _who_ am I speaking to again?”

_“His name is Northman. Eric Northman.”_

It’s strange thinking about the moment you first heard the name of the  someone who changed the course of your life. For that moment it was just a name, and nothing more. No touch of destiny to it – it’s casual. I remember my first thought being I was going to miss an episode of the _Saturday Night Live_ show for him. It makes me laugh now.

It was close to 10pm when I turned around the corner into the long, two-way street that led to the Landry House. It seemed very strange to set an appointment so late in the evening, but, if my boss was correct, it was Eric’s, well, back then he was Mr. Northman. If my boss was correct that was Mr. Northman’s preference. Mr. Nichols relayed to me that Mr. Northman had some condition that made him sensitive to _light_ – you weren’t likely to see him outside during the day. That was the strangest thing I had ever heard, but I didn’t question it.

I pulled up outside the gates into the private property and blinked  as if I’d walked into a dream. The house was plainly visible atop the small hill – the long driveway had been repaved, the overgrown bushes had been trimmed down, the lawn looked simply perfect, and, I would imagine, in the spring, it would look amazing. Someone was obviously constantly sweeping the dry leaves underneath the trees.

The house itself was well-lit from the outside – and I could see lights on through the windows in the first floor.

The Landry House was called a house, but it was truly a Mansion. It was wide and three storeys high. Obviously, Mr. Northman had quite a bit of work done to it. What I remembered of it were gray slats and huge, gaping holes on the roof – a lot of missing windows too. It looked good as new, even if it still retained some of its threatening appearance.

As I sat there in my car, gaping at how different and beautiful everything looked, a flashlight appeared out of nowhere through the gate, landing squarely on my eyes, causing me to shut them and look away, throwing my hand in front of me defensively. I could tell when it was put away and I blinked, looking up and leaning to stare at whoever it was that had done it. Through the gate I could see a short, but broad-shouldered man in what looked like a chauffeur's uniform, complete with hat and white gloves.

I rolled down my window and stuck my head outside and waved with a friendly smile.

“Hello there! I believe I’m expected! The _Chronicle_ sent me! I’m Sookie Stackhouse!” I shouted.

The man blinked, watching me a little perplexed, but after a brief moment he moved to open the gates. I thanked him as I drove past him. I caught a fleeting thought as I left him behind – something about unwanted attention.

I discovered with time, that if I _wanted_ to, I could hear someone’s every waking thought, if I stood close enough. If I _touched_ people, it was even easier. When I first realized this, I wouldn’t let anyone touch me – it was when my mother decided we had to go to a doctor. But after schooling myself into _not_ wanting to hear them, it got a little better. I was always afraid though, that one day I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from listening in to everybody, everywhere. The thought scared me to no end – how could one live like that?

With that bleak perspective dampening my mood, I shook myself as I killed the engine. I sat in my car, staring at the front door, still a little in awe. I was going into the Murder House! Back when _I_ was a Freshman, spending the night in there was the test for one of the most disputed frat houses. I still remembered the stories I heard – knowing they were all lies.

As I pushed my door open and stepped on the pavement, I wondered what the boys did now to earn their membership.

As soon as I stepped on the doormat the massive front door swung open before me and light coming from the foyer bathed the little rectangle in which I stood. I batted my eyes repeatedly as I faced the woman in front of me.

She was a short, slim, blonde in a maid’s uniform – she had a slightly dazed look about her, and she greeted me with a lazy smile before stepping to the side and waving me in. Curiously I stared at her as I walked inside – I narrowed my eyes and focused on her, looking for a thought – strangely, all I could hear was a humming, like she was singing to herself.

I stared in front of me, staggered by the grand staircase right in the middle of the large room and I was surprised by the large angel figurehead mounted on the wall at the top of the first landing. The carpet was a rich, dark red and it  extended from the door onto the steps. There were dim, lamp-light fixtures on the wall, giving the place an eerie look.

As I stared and gaped at the decorative details, the maid stood silently behind me, both of voice and of mind. And it was only when a door to my right opened that I was reminded I wasn’t here for the Haunted Tour. I looked up disgruntled, and turned to face whoever would come through that door.

It was a man, with short black hair, a striped suit and a ridiculous red tie. He stared at me with irritation and I swallowed, taking a step back. He looked away from me and to the maid, and his irritation seemed to double.

“Miss Buck, you were to announce Miss Stackhouse _immediately_!” he spoke coolly, his voice echoing in the large room.

Behind me I heard shuffling, and I turned to look as the maid seemed to awake from a dream. She looked mildly chastised, as chastised as she could anyhow.

“I apologize, Mr. Burnham… I was just about to knock.”

I felt suddenly relieved to hear the grouchy gentleman wasn’t Mr. Northman. I frowned as I stared at him, and I caught a stream of unflattering thoughts directed at the poor woman. I drew in a sharp breath. It wasn’t always I ran into someone like him – someone whose thoughts broadcasted so clearly.

“May I have your coat, ma’am?” Miss Buck sidled up next to me.

“Oh… of course…” she helped me out of my coat and I watched as she disappeared into a door to my left – most probably  the closet.

“Miss Stackhouse, this way please. Mr. Northman is expecting you,” he waved into the room he had just left.

“Thank you…” I managed to say as I practically marched across the foyer.

Something about the man commanded obedience, and before I knew it was inside another room with the door closing softly behind me. I was submerged in complete silence again – no more sharp, disdainful thoughts from the man, or the eerie humming from the woman – I sighed with relief.

I saw myself in a library – books covered the walls, every wall – stacked in dark mahogany bookshelves. The plush armchairs were either dark red, or dark green, a large, ornate mahogany desk  occupied a significant place in the room, facing away from large French windows that looked out onto the perfectly manicured lawn. I noticed heavy blackout curtains on each of them – I was reminded of Mr. Northman’s condition. Was it really _that_ bad?

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”

I gasped and whirled around, swallowing a pathetic whimper and attempting to conceal my surprise. Normally, whenever someone was coming, I would know it before they entered the room. It wasn’t so much that I would hear actual distinguishable thoughts, with full sentences or even words, but, I’d learned every mind had a _signature_ . Even if I couldn’t always hear complete thoughts, I could always _feel_ their minds.

As I stared at the man across the room from me, for the first few seconds I couldn’t notice anything about him other than the fact his mind had _no_ signature. I couldn’t _feel_ him. It struck me as strange, and I hurried to hide my surprise as I took a step forward and blurted something to the effect of thank you for seeing me, or anything of the sort.

“It’s no inconvenience at all, Miss Stackhouse,” Mr. Northman spoke again, his voice had a strange cadence to it, and a nearly imperceptible accent – it was a pleasant, smooth voice.

As he stepped further into the room, I could see more of him in the dim light. He made quite an impressive figure. He was taller than most men, easily over six feet all. He had golden blonde hair the same shade as mine, short and well-groomed -  and glinting sky-blue eyes. He had a handsome face, sharp, lean angles, a strong jaw and a cleft chin. He was broad-shouldered, and I could clearly see the outline of well-toned muscles under his dark-green turtleneck sweater and he wore rich, dark gray trousers. I tilted my head to the side curiously when I noticed he was barefoot.

I immediately tugged at the front of my dress and forced myself to stand straight and proud like an adult. I had changed from the jeans and shirt from earlier into a more formal long, black dress. It seemed like interviewing anyone who could afford a Mansion warranted a certain formality – whether he chose to wear shoes or not.

He seemed to be studying me too, but it was difficult to read him. I couldn’t read him at all. Not a hum, no noise, no _nothing_ – it was like travelling back in time, before my nightmare began! It was wonderful. I was standing there, facing the man, not saying anything at all, extremely delighted that I couldn’t hear _anything_ at all, even if I _tried_.

“Would you like something to drink?” he offered suddenly.

He seemed to suddenly force himself to go on and break our staring match. He walked towards a cabinet in the other side of the room I had completely overlooked. He moved gracefully for a man of his stature, like every move and gesture were calculated. I narrowed my eyes curiously as I turned my body around to follow the sight of him.

“Ah…” should I be drinking in service? He started pouring something for himself, so I quickly replied. “Whatever you're having is fine…”

I caught a ghost of a smile on his lips and a simple nod. It seemed to be polite to drink if your host is drinking – though I wasn’t sure. I had never paid much attention to etiquette lessons. I took the moment to observe him some more, since he wasn’t watching me back. I noticed he was very pale, and I wondered if this was a result of his condition. As I strained to see in the dim light I noticed something else that made my pulse go a little faster for a second. His skin… it had a faint… _glow_ to it… it was nearly imperceptible, maybe it was just the ambient light playing tricks on my eyes. But I was gaping at him again as he walked back to me, again, with those calculated movements.

I blinked, there was something to his walk, like a certain gait, it felt like being stalked by a wild animal. He stopped in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck upwards, and I looked into his eyes – up close they were darker and intense – like one with a mind hard at work – and yet… not a peep…

“I hope you have a high tolerance for alcohol…” he handed me the glass and smiled that small smile again. “Scotch, neat.”

I glared at the glass in my hand and nodded stupidly. He stepped away as I did it and I looked up, following him to the plush armchairs in the center of the room.

“Please, sit…” he waved politely at a seat and waited until I was seated to take his own place across from me, crossing one long leg over the other, and folding his arms over his lap. His head cocked to the side and he watched me silently. I briefly wondered where his glass had disappeared to. “I promised Mr. Nichols I would speak to the _Chronicle_ exclusively. So you can ask me whatever you want, Miss Stackhouse, and I will answer to the best of my abilities.”

I nodded and I took a sip from my drink, for courage – I made a face at the unexpected taste and caught Mr. Northman smiling in my peripheral as I turned to rest my glass on a side table next to me. I had taken notes, _of course_. I had known nothing about the case before my boss called, and I needed a refresher. I opened my notepad.

I knew the basics of the story. Seventeen year-old Willa Burrell had followed her sorority friends into the woods just fifty-five minutes away from the Landry House earlier in the night before. There was drinking, and dancing, and her friends played a prank on her, telling her she would have to go into the woods and spend the night there. Their intention was to let her by herself for a half-hour, just so she would panic a little, then they would come and pick her up. She wasn’t there to be found when they returned, and walking a little further into the woods, while panicking themselves, her _friends_ found what they believed to be blood, and one of Miss Burrell’s shoes. Hours later, Mr. Northman called the police, letting them know he’d found her, around twenty minutes away from his house.

I skimmed my notes quickly, aware of Mr. Northman watching me from his seat. It was a little unnerving how _still_ he was, I felt as though he was the one trying to read _my_ mind. Finally, I was finished reviewing my notes and cleared my throat, turning my eyes up to face him, only to be nearly silenced completely. His eyes were darker than they had been a  minute ago, and he looked somewhat paler – he’d raised one of his hands, his long pale fingers scratching idly under his chin. I cleared my throat again and shifted in my seat.

“Knowing you couldn’t have been aware of Miss Burrell’s predicament given she had disappeared that very same night, how did you come by her in the middle of the woods?”

“I was out, taking a walk,” he answered simply, dropping his arm to his lap again. “I heard rustling and panting. I followed the sounds and found Miss Burrell on the cold ground, clutching her leg, she’d stuck her foot in a crevasse between large roots – she was frightened, but mostly unharmed.”

I watched him, mesmerized, his voice was still so soothing, I enjoyed the lilt to his speech. But, enthralled as I was, I had to note how _strange_ his declaration was.

“You were _out for a walk_ in the middle of the woods at four in the morning?” I couldn’t help the tone in my own voice, and I hurried to fix it. “That… sounds a little unusual…” I added a nervous laugh at the end.

“I found her just after three,” he corrected me. “I called the station at four.” There was that small smile to his lips again. “As for my choice of a nocturnal pastime, I understand it is unusual. But given my circumstances, it’s become quite common. I have been living here for eight months, and I have come to know the woods that surround my house quite well.”

By his circumstances, I imagined he meant his condition, the photosensitivity thing. I was very curious about that, but I knew I wasn’t here for _that_ kind of interview. I nodded quickly, jotting down some notes on my notepad while I gathered my thoughts.

“You said Miss Burrell looked panicked, but unharmed?” I looked up at him again.

“Yes,” he nodded. “She was perfectly fine. Understandably frightened. I helped her free her ankle, helped her stand and led her back through the woods to my house, as it would be closer and I had a telephone. She was limping a little so I was concerned she could have twisted her ankle, but after she sat down for a bit and drank some water, I checked her ankle for swelling or broken bones and there were none. I understand she was taken to a hospital for a checkup after her parents and the police came along. I believe the doctors released her immediately.”

I nodded and wrote down a couple more things. “So… there was _no_ blood?” I frowned.

Mr. Northman blinked. And, for some reason, that was noticeable to me – perhaps because he didn’t seem to do a lot of it. I blinked my own repeatedly, as a reflex, I think. He really didn’t blink much, and when he did, it looked like every little gesture of his – calculated. He seemed surprised by my question – he tilted his head to the side a little and his eyes glistened curiously.

“No, there was no blood on her that I could see.”

“That’s interesting…” I blurted. “Because her friends claimed to have found blood on the same site they found her shoe.”

More blinking, eyelashes fanning over high cheekbones… he heaved a sigh.

“That is… _strange_ …” he conceded. “Impressionable young minds, perhaps?” he offered curiously.

I nodded and then shrugged. “Quite possible.” I wrote that down for later. I didn’t know if Nichols had already had someone interview her friends, or even Burrell herself, but I would have to check this little fact with someone later. “What did Miss Burrell say to you when you found her?”

“She told me what her friends had proposed to her. She told me she had sat down on her sleeping bag for a short time, she doesn’t really remember how long because she didn’t have a watch with her. She started hearing noises in the woods, and, understandably the poor girl was frightened,” he smiled. “She decided to check what it was. Then she got lost.”

“She must have walked for quite a bit to have wound up so close to your house,” I noted.

“She walked for perhaps thirty minutes or more. She couldn’t see in the dark, and she tripped and fell, her ankle was stuck… and well…” he splayed his hands significantly. “That’s the story – with a happy ending.”

I smiled. “My favorite type of story.” I checked my notes again. “Did you speak to the parents personally?”

“Yes, they drove here with the police. Good people, they were very concerned for their daughter.”

“Did you ever run into strange people in the woods before, Mr. Northman?” I asked out of pure curiosity – that wasn’t on my notes.

He blinked curiously again, his head bowing down slightly, his penetrating eyes seemed to be trying to read me again. “Not before last night, no. I know there are the odd campers in the summer months, but I never venture in the areas they usually set camp in.”

“Well… if we ever had bad guys in there, they might keep away now they know there’s a forest ranger,” I joked.

Mr. Northman chuckled, probably just to indulge me. I finished my notes. I wanted to have more questions for him, but sadly, given what he told me, none of my follow-up questions were useful. There had been no blood, no bad guys in the woods, no monsters. This wasn’t my big story after all – although I supposed that was good for Willa Burrell – and then I felt bad for hoping she’d had a more difficult time than she’d actually had.

“Well, I guess this is it!” I sighed, closing my notepad and putting it back into my purse. I stood and Mr. Northman followed. “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Northman…” I offered him my hand to shake.

He stared at my hand briefly, as though it was a strange custom he’d never heard of – then he simply took it in his, dwarfing it completely in his much larger, surprisingly cold one. I actually gasped. The house was warm enough inside, how could he be this cold? I strained my mind for something from him as we touched, but nothing happened!

“It’s been a pleasure, Miss Stackhouse…” he said in that soothing voice of his, his eyes _drawing_ me in.

I blinked at him as my hand slipped away, I inhaled, and the scent of him was intoxicating. I again searched for a signature, a hum, anything – _nothing_. It was so unusual – pleasantly unusual, but also increasingly unsettling – I didn’t know how he made me feel.

“Allow me to walk you to your car…” he offered gently, motioning towards the door out into the foyer.

“Oh… thank you…” I started moving, telling myself to stop trying to hear him.

We walked silently side by side outside onto the pavement. From the corner of my eye I could see it hadn’t been the ambient light – even out here, there was a strange glow to his pale skin, and his eyes seemed to glint even more. By the time we reached my car, I was staring at him blatantly, though it didn’t seem to bother him. There was something too strange about him, not unpleasantly strange really. Just different – like he wasn’t… entirely human… I knew how silly that thought sounded, but that was the only way I could have described it.

“Thank you, again…” I waved at him foolishly and turned my back to him to get my car opened. I froze for a second when I felt him at my back – there was a faint whiff and I blinked. Had he _smelled_ me?

“You shouldn’t smoke…” he said quietly by my ear and I could feel his cool breath on my neck.

But as I turned around he was more than an arm’s distance away from me and I smiled nervously over my shoulder, feeling foolish again. “Good night, Mr. Northman…”

He nodded at me silently, again, his movements so studious, so contained. I shrugged it off and closed my door, started my car and drove away.

At first I didn’t expect to meet him again after that night. Even if Mr. Nichols had me pursue the lead about the blood found in the woods, even if after speaking to three different sorority girls each of them swore they’d seen blood on the ground – I still hit a wall when I spoke to Willa Burrell herself and she confirmed Mr. Northman’s version… there had been no blood – she’d wandered into the woods until her foot got caught in some roots and she fell.

There was no big story to pursue. It was over.

I think Mr. Nichols wasn’t the only one disappointed by that. I was a little disgruntled myself, but for a different reason. Things about the event struck me as strange in ways I couldn’t shake off.

While taking the other sorority girls’ accounts of the events of that evening, they spoke of hearing noises in the woods themselves. They confessed they really _would_ have left Willa there all night, they’d done it to other girls before, but it was the sounds they heard that made them go back for her. They said they were sounds like that of an animal trotting really, really fast, they’d catch movement out of the corner of their eyes – your standard paranormal activity account. Then there was the blood the three of them swore they’d seen. And I could have written it off as the three of them trying to get a rise out of me, trying to pull a prank on the _Chronicle…_ but their thoughts confirmed the words coming out of their mouths. And then, then came Willa Burrell.

She was a small, dark-haired, brown-eyed young woman with a shy streak. She looked healthy and composed when I spoke to her – she smiled a lot in spite of her nervousness. She told me the exact same story Mr. Northman claimed she told him the night he saved her – down to  a tee. When I asked her about the blood she chuckled and denied it, saying her friends were probably trying to create rumors to tell at school.

Then there was the strangeness I felt while talking to her. It reminded me a little of what it felt like when I met Mr. Northman’s maid. Their… signatures were similar. Both had a hazy, foggy feel to their minds, their thoughts were unintelligible. While Willa didn’t hum lullabies in her head, there was a strange buzzing sound and whatever thoughts I captured from her, they were usually completely random and unrelated to what we were actually talking about.

It struck me as strange. I had never encountered such oddities before. Everyone I had ever met since I started hearing voices had a distinguishing signature to their minds, as if their voices were audible to me even when they weren’t speaking words. Then, in around 24 hours, I encountered three completely unusual minds. Miss Buck’s, Mr. Northman’s and Miss Burrell’s. Miss Buck and Miss Burrell’s had something in common with each other, but only each other. And Mr. Northman’s mind was unlike any mind anywhere, in which it was completely muted to me.

My own condition was a mystery to me. No doctors or psychiatrists had been able to help me. They tried to diagnose me a number of times, they put me through unnecessary, invasive and useless treatments. My family couldn’t understand what I was trying to tell them and I wouldn’t dream of telling my friends I could read their minds if I tried.

It was very lonely – being the way I was, and very frightening. I found some comfort in the fact this ability of mine wasn’t very stable or very defined. But I was scared. I was afraid it could get worse with the years. And then I stumbled upon these people whose voices I couldn’t understand, or couldn’t hear at all, and I was unable to stop thinking about it.

Even as my boss, Mr. Nichols, decided we should drop this blood on the ground story, I couldn’t. I was certain of one thing – the voices I heard when there were no lips moving, those were the voices I trusted to be always truthful. You can’t lie to yourself. Those three sorority girls weren’t lying about what they saw and heard that night. And how could I trust someone whose thoughts weren’t telling me _anything_ at all? I couldn’t. To my perception, knowing and hearing the world as I did – Eric Northman had to be hiding something.

And so I decided to investigate.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was on Monday afternoon I took my first steps towards the unknown. I parked my car on the roadside right by the big, worn sign that announced you were 20 miles away from Bon Temps. I had driven by this sign so many times in the past few years – yet I had never stopped right there, even though I knew it was where college kids carried out their ritualistic pranks.

There was a large, semi-circle of beaten dirt, slowly funneling into the trees. I knew it was because of the many cars that parked here, so its occupants could venture into the woods.

I stared into the trees as a cold breeze rustled past me, dry leaves skittered past my feet, drawing my eyes to the ground beneath them. I shuffled the dirt in front of me curiously, and then I bent down to examine a glinting object protruding from the dirt. It was just the remains of   a beer can.

I always liked trees best in the Fall. There was more color to them, and I liked that they painted a living blanket on the ground – I liked the sound the leaves made as you crunched past them. So as I began to trek into the woods, my first thoughts weren’t ominous or dark. They were thoughts of trampling through the woods behind my parents’ house, or surrounding my grandmother’s farmhouse – they were strangely happy thoughts.

As I walked deeper into the woods, however, I suddenly realized the big flaw in my plan. I didn’t have the exact location of where those girls had found Willa Burrell’s shoes and blood. The camping site was more or less easy to find as the girls told me to walk a straight line from the place where I parked, and I should reach it after 20 minutes. I found it just as easily as they said I would. It was a very obviously tampered ground. There were more beer cans and crumpled paper wraps, and signs of a campfire and flattened patches on the ground where sleeping bags had been stretched recently.

But from there I was simply stuck. I knew their general direction, which was further west into the same straight-line, but that was about it. They never knew how much longer they’d walked because they had been too frightened by the time they found the shoe and the blood – they calculated about twenty more minutes, but they weren’t sure, because they took some time to gather their thoughts and trek back out of the woods.

I sighed and sat on a log by the remains of the campfire. I stared over my shoulder in the direction I had come from, listening for sounds of the highway – but I was too far away. I stared then into the opposite direction and sighed again. I took a few minutes to make up my mind.

It was close to one o’clock. I’d woken up, sat for a late breakfast with Amelia, listened to her ramble for a bit quietly, then I’d gone into my room and changed into my blue tracksuit and sneakers, and braided my hair so it wouldn’t get caught in any branches. I never told my roommate where I was going, because I didn’t want to tell anyone I was off pursuing a dead lead. So I just let her assume I had gone jogging in the park.

I pondered my chances of getting lost in the woods. I had never been one to go trekking in the forest, not even back in college when it was all kids seemed to want to do. From there I knew how to get back to my car, but if I went further? I wasn’t sure. I had brought a backpack with me, where I had water, a hand towel, my camera, my smokes and a flashlight. I didn’t expect I would be around till sunset, but it was just a precaution.

Deciding if I’d come this far I might as well just keep going I stood, looked around to get my bearings again, and started walking.

During the day there was nothing frightening or intimidating about those woods. The sounds I could hear were easily identifiable. Birds, squirrels and other little critters, the wind, the leaves swaying, nothing alarming. I kept my eyes on the ground most of the time, trying to find anything unusual. I knew from the police reports, the one the _Chronicle_ had published just that morning along with my interview with Mr. Northman, that the police tried to track back to the spot where the girls had found Willa’s shoes, but they never managed, they certainly never found any blood. But I had to wonder, what if they returned in the morning? I had hope. I had hope I would find an explanation to what those girls had seen – and somehow, in the back of my mind, I think I hoped it would also explain Mr. Northman, Miss Buck and Miss Burrell’s strangeness.

Thinking back now, I think the reason I was so avid for discovery was because for the first time I had stumbled upon others who were strange – like me. I wanted not to feel so alone in my own inadequacy.

So I kept pushing into the woods, farther and farther away from my car. It was already two in the afternoon when I stopped, exhausted, having reached a small creek. I sat on the ground, leaning back onto a tree to catch my breath and wipe the sweat off my brow. There was certainly no mention of a creek – I had obviously walked way past the mark and I groaned with frustration, thumping my head back against the tree trunk and closing my eyes – mentally congratulating myself for the fine detective work.

Then I heard something. Something I wasn’t supposed to hear in the middle of the woods. I heard voices.

_…what?_

I sat bolt upright with my heart in my throat. It had been such a sharp, surly voice, like an angry man.

… _he’s out of his mind again…_ a second voice seemed to lament.

I rolled onto my knees and grabbed the tree I had been leaning on for support while carefully looking around it. But all I could see were trees.

 _…what is this_ **_smell_ ** _?_ The first angry voice said again and my breath hitched.

 _…what is he doing?_ The second voice mused. _And what smells so good?_

I frowned and started sniffing the air around me. To me, nothing smelled unusual, even less unusually _good_. It gave me a false sense of security. Maybe whoever they were, they were too far from me. I stood up slowly, grabbing onto the tree for support and kept straining my ears and my mind.

 _…_ **_whaaat is it?_ ** The first voice growled impatiently.

The second voice had become a little rumbly and indistinguishable and  I started to step backwards, uneasily. I had never heard thoughts farther away than a few feet before – so they couldn’t be too far, could they?

Something changed abruptly, I could feel both of their minds stilling completely, as though something had broken their trail of thought and I held my breath, hoping it hadn’t been me. And then I heard their voices… their _actual_ voices….

“Can you smell it?” it was the second man, his natural voice was firmer now.

“Can I? Of course I can!” growled the first man, even more menacing when he spoke out loud.

They were only a few feet away from me, and I noticed the wind had started to blow the opposite way, from their direction towards me, instead of the other way around – whatever they _smelled_ now was across from me, and they were between whatever _it_ was and me. I waited until I heard their hurried steps before I could peek around my tree – and then I saw, two shapes in dark clothes running and jumping southward. I took a deep breath, and decided to follow them. I started running, trying not to make too much noise, straining my mind harder so that by hearing their minds I could keep a safe distance away and still see what the hell this was about. I didn’t have to run long.

Soon I heard as they stopped, their mind-voices a little jumbled. But as I slowed down I could hear them speaking to each other.

“It’s here…” said the first man, with a dark pleasure to his voice.

“Let’s dig….” Said the second man, eagerly.

I frowned as I squatted down, using another tree as a shield, a peered down into the clearing, maybe 2 or 3 feet deeper down than the spot on the ground where I stood. I could see the men clearly now. One was tall and massive, with dark, curly hair, wearing a very worn plaid shirt and jeans, and trekking boots – he looked like a lumberjack. The other was smaller but thick and strong, not a lot of hair to his head, and a dirty, blonde mustache, the lines on his forehead were strained.

Both men carried shovels, and, with no more words exchanged between them, they started to dig. I blinked my eyes curiously as I watched them, noticing how their minds felt _different_ as well. Different from Mr. Northman’s, and Miss Buck’s and Miss Burrell’s… a _whole new_ different! I couldn’t understand anything anymore. Why I was I running into such _strange_ mental signatures all of a sudden?

Their thoughts were like trying to hear someone through water – it was even more indistinguishable than before. And as they dug, far more efficiently than it was humanly possible with that type of hard soil, I could have sworn I’d heard them _growl_ like animals.

I frowned and narrowed my eyes leaning closer. They kept digging and digging – maybe the soil had been recently tampered with?

Suddenly both men stepped back abruptly and a loud, echoing sound like a howl could be heard coming _from inside_ the hole they’d just dug. I gasped and stumbled, falling on my bottom as the wailing continued and then I could _smell_ something putrid, like flesh burning and blood, there was definitely the smell of old blood in the air – I threw an arm under my nose to prevent myself from inhaling that foul stench, and I forced myself to fix my gaze back on the strange scene before me.

Both men stood, each at one end of the hole, staring at whatever had been lying there, and most obviously had just… _died_ in there. Then they exchanged a brief look and started shoveling all that dirt back inside the hole.

My heart was hammering against my ribs and as I tried to breathe properly. I scrambled to my feet. But I must have made too much noise because suddenly, I heard the sound of one of the shovels hitting the dull ground and I looked up, to see both men looking squarely at me, surprised.

My heart stopped.

I turned around and started running, not waiting to hear what they would say. But as soon as my feet started hitting the dirt in front of me I could hear them scrambling behind me, their minds definitively _growling_ at me now. I started panting, and tears sprung in my eyes as I started thinking of nothing more than death.

I was certain I was going to die.

I could hear nothing but my own breathing, and see a blurry version of the trees in front of me. Then something hit me from behind and trampled me to the ground – I felt a large hand wrapping around my skull and I screamed.

That was the last thing I remember about that...

The next thing I have memories of, is the song of the cicada – penetrating my consciousness, pulling me out of the total darkness. Then there was the smell of the dew, the ruffling of leaves overhead, the cold. I shivered, and as I did I noticed pain everywhere and I moaned. My eyes fluttered slightly and I could see the night sky through the near naked cups of the trees above me.

At that time I wasn’t sure if it was real – I might as well have been dreaming. But I kept floating in and out of consciousness, whenever the wind was just a little colder, whenever something seemed to grip me from inside and tug hard and I’d open my eyes and gag and try to breathe.

At some point I heard steps – careful steps, and I didn’t dare open my eyes, I’m not sure I could have, had I wanted to. I felt something familiar, like the brush of a mind I knew, but it was silent. I felt something cool pressing to my forehead, and I shivered all over, the pain returning everywhere.

I felt arms sneaking beneath me and lifting me up with ease, I felt myself jostling into someone’s arms, my face touched soft fabric and I shivered – _so cold_. I wanted my bed and a blanket. I drifted out of consciousness again.

Next I was on a bed, I felt it beneath me, soft, warm, comfortable - the sheets smelled like lavender. Nothing hurt anymore. My eyes opened fully and I was staring at velvet-red canopy. I frowned as I parted my lips and exhaled slowly, my eyes flitting around me in a mixture of panic and relief.

I sat up abruptly, surprised I could move at all! I tested my movements, moving my neck, my arms, bending my knees… no pain, no stiffness – the strange, tugging I’d felt sporadically from inside me was no longer present either.

I gasped, noticing the jacket on my tracksuit missing – and my shoes. I still wore my undershirt and tracksuit pants, and even in the dark I could see large smudges of dirt on my thighs and knees. My eyes looked around in the room as my heart sped up. Where was I? Who had rescued me? _Had_ I been rescued?

“How are you feeling?”

Again a sharp jolt ran through me and I was on my knees in the middle of the bed squinting into the dark room. It was the second time Eric Northman snuck up on me…

“Mi… mister Northman?” I called out tentatively, thinking I’d finally spotted him near what I assumed was the door.

He was a tall, massive shape against the wall. As I called to him, he started moving slowly, his steps making the floorboards creak, I could tell he was watching me as well.

“Yes, Miss Stackhouse… who else did you expect?”

I chuckled nervously, following his shadow as he quickly disappeared behind one the bed posters, and resurged in front of me, taking the space in front of the French window facing the foot of the bed. The light coming from outside outlined his figure, but I still couldn’t see his face from where he stood, except for his glinting blue eyes.

“I don’t know that I expected anyone…” I said. “How did you find me? Another one of your night strolls?” the darkness was making me nervous. I wish he’d turn on a light somewhere. I could see the moon in the distance, above his left shoulder.

“Yes, most fortunate, once again,” he said in his smooth, lilting voice. “You have not answered my question. How are you feeling?”

“I feel… fine…” I said. Too fine should have been the answer. But how do you explain to someone who found you knocked out in the woods that you’re _too fine_?

“No more pain?” he prodded quietly.

“No…” I frowned.

I looked down at the front of my undershirt – it had no dirt on it, because I had been wearing my jacket, and I knew there was no blood on my legs either because my clothes stuck to no part of me, still I could feel the strange, metallic taste in my mouth… had I _spat_ blood at some point?

“Good…” Mr. Northman said from his spot.

He started to move again and I looked up curiously as he neared the foot of the bed. I found myself leaning forward, crawling on my hands and knees to get closer to him. He leaned his shoulder onto the bed post to his right and I stopped, sitting back on my calves. The both of us stared, like two curious visitors to a zoo.

With him this close I could see that glow to his skin again, even in the dark. His eyes flitted upon my face, searching me as I searched him. His eyes drooped and his lips parted slightly, I could swear I’d heard him inhaling, breathing me in.

“Did you call the police?” I asked breathlessly.

His eyes fluttered until they focused on mine again. “Would you like me to call the police?”

“I… I was attacked…” my voice failed me.

“Let’s talk about that…” he started gently. “But first… you should eat…” he started backing away from me.

I found myself leaning forward, attempting to follow him, until I shook myself and shuddered. Something was off with me. I wrapped my hands about my bare arms and  watched as he walked, now more purposefully, until he reached a light switch.

Light bathed the room – it was still the same, very dim light coming from the lamp fixed to the walls – but it was much better, and a lot less unnerving now that I could see my surroundings – and now that I could see _him_.

He looked more casual than he had the night before. He wore navy blue cotton slacks and a strangely long and thick house coat – in the light I flushed slightly, noticing his bare torso, visible through the unbuttoned coat. The visible musculature drew my eyes to his stomach. The man was like a perfect sculpture and I was surprised by my reaction to him. I could recognize male beauty like any hot-blooded woman, and I had recognized it the night before, but now it was like I was breaking into a sweat just from watching him in the light.

I shook myself and frowned. In my confusion, I missed something happening in my peripheral, but when I looked up, Mr. Northman had wheeled a little cart closer to the bed, like those in hospitals rooms. A covered tray and a glass of what looked like lemonade were upon it. He removed the stainless plate lid, revealing a surprisingly appetizing-looking dish of rice, veggies, mashed potatoes and turkey.

When I looked up to his face again he was regarding me with doubt, his eyebrows slightly arched. “I hope this is to your taste…?”

“Oh…” I nodded mechanically. “It… it smells great!”

“Good…” he smiled and put the lid aside, stepping back. “Eat up. I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve eaten. It’s almost ten o’clock, you should be hungry.”

“Ten o’clock?” my heart sunk. I had lost an entire day. “Oh, my God, Amelia!” I started scrambling out of the bed. “She must be wondering where I am…”

Mr. Northman was in front of me, one hand gently on my arm, I looked up at him with surprise, he had a strange expression on his face, his eyes became intense, almost urgent.

“Your friend will hear from you soon… relax. You have to eat.”

I stared at him uncertainly, he dropped his hand from me and again I noticed the cold. I shuddered and sat back down, closer to the little cart and sighed. There was something strange going on here.

I was suddenly wondering if this was what happened to Willa Burrell. Had she been brought into this room? Had she been fed? Had she been kept from simply walking out with strange kindness? Did she feel like I did? Had she been afraid too?

I was suddenly wondering about the two men in the woods, and the blood neither Willa nor Mr. Northman wanted to talk about. I shuddered and swallowed nervously. He was watching me intently, as if trying to read my mind. I’d given up trying to read his…

I reached for the cutlery and tried talking myself into complying. Maybe if I did, he’d let me go as he’d let Willa.

Once I started to eat, he started pacing inside the room. He stopped by the window again, staring outside into the woods. Because he had his back to me I chanced a look at him. He looked tense, his hands behind him flexed once before they stilled, as though it was some unstoppable muscular reaction. I didn’t eat much, my stomach felt cold and inhospitable. I put the lid back on the tray so he wouldn’t notice the nearly untouched food.

“I was in the woods in the middle of the afternoon…” I started.

“Why?” he interrupted me from his spot by the window, still looking outside.

I hesitated of course. What would the truth sound like to him? Like I had thought he had lied to me, like I thought him guilty of... _something_.

“I wanted to investigate the sorority girls ‘claims they’d found blood in the forest.” I thought quickly of extenuating circumstances. “If they weren’t Willa’s… perhaps they were someone else’s…”

He looked at me over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched, as if to tell me he knew I was lying, a light tilt to his lips, as though he was amused.

“I… kept walking and… I reached a creek. I stopped to catch my breath and I heard something… voices…” he turned around to face me now, curiosity evident as he walked around to the side of the bed again. “They were two men… they, they were talking about a smell, and could they _smell it_ ….” I shook my head. I had the feeling they had been thinking about a different smell than the smell they actually talked about – but I couldn’t disclose that to Mr. Northman without getting into my… quirk. “They… followed some smell to some spot in the dirt…” I shrugged. “… and they started digging!” I was staring at nowhere by then, thinking back to the absurdity of the event, I didn’t see Mr. Northman inching closer as I spoke. “Then…” I looked up with surprise, finding him very close, a look in his eyes I couldn’t decipher – was it anger? There was a downward tilt to his mouth now – I knew he wanted me to keep talking. “…I couldn’t _see_ what it was they dug up but… I heard something…”

“What did you hear?” his voice was eerily quiet – it made me shudder.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” I chuckled nervously. “But I thought I heard someone wailing… in pain…” I shivered at the memory. “And then there was a smell…” I could feel it in my mouth as I remembered it. “It was… horrible… like burning flesh and… and… blood…” my eyes flitted up to his again and I almost wish I hadn’t done it.

His eyes were wide and darker than they had ever been, his nostrils were flared, his mouth set in a scowl. I could feel the anger rippling off of him. My eyes flitted quickly down to where his hands rested at his sides, they were both balled into fists. I looked up back into his eyes quickly, and struggled against the instinct to recoil from him.

“Do you know… who these people were?” I heard myself asking foolishly.

His eyes fluttered again, and he seemed to contain himself, he looked down at me, more calmly, he forced himself to breathe – it was… _different_ , I never usually noticed him breathing at all… not that you do… normally… but it was strange – like it was  a new thing he could do.

“They hunted you…” he said, ignoring my question. “They hurt you and left you to die in the woods.”

“Yes….” I breathed. “I remember pain… I remember being alone and being unable to wake up… but…. Here I am…” I tilted my head to the side. “And I don’t feel a thing….”

I hoped he had answers. I wanted answers. There was too much about the last couple of nights I couldn’t understand.

“I had to heal you…” he said unexpectedly. “You were bleeding internally…” I gaped at him speechlessly. He trailed his eyes down my body as though he could see through fabric and flesh. “… I could smell it.”

“I think we should call the police now…” I blurted out, staring at him, frozen.

His eyes returned to mine quickly, that hard, intense darkness about them. He didn’t move, he just stood there, in that unnatural stillness for one heartbeat – two heartbeats – three heartbe…

“Sookie…”  his hand suddenly curled into my hair and I gasped. The braid I’d pulled my hair into earlier was a mess, and I had a lot of stray hairs falling around, so my hair was quite loose that he could fist his hand into it without hurting me, yet what frightened me was the look in his eyes, and his closeness, I could feel his cold breath on my face. And the way he’d said my name, it was as if he’d liquefied parts of me, the naughty parts of me.

That I could feel fear and arousal at the same time was completely unsettling to me. I panted as I stared back into his eyes, feeling as though they were pulling me into them. “You will remember _nothing_ of what happened to you today…” he continued in a strange, studious monotone. I frowned, my breath hitched. “…you came to the woods and you found nothing at all. You walked back to your car, unharmed. You got into your car, and you just… drove back around to the city,” my heart was beating faster now, as his words completely flustered me. “You had a problem with a flat tire, which is why it took you so long…” he added with a regrettable tone. “Everything is alright now…”

I blinked repeatedly and I tried to jerk back from him, but his fingers in my hair stopped me. “What are you talking about?” I asked tremulously, I could feel myself shaking. “Let me go…” I grabbed his wrist with my hands.

He blinked at me in complete perplexity. “You remember…”

“Yes! I do!” I snapped tugging harder at his wrist.

His eyes fluttered slightly, and he dropped them between us with a concerned expression. “This is unfortunate…” he whispered, slipping his hand away from my hair.

I scrambled away from him and crawled to the foot of the bed in a heartbeat. I dashed across the room, not bothering to look for my shoes or backpack and grabbed at the handle, desperate to get the hell out of there.

It was locked. The door was locked. I twisted and pulled at the handle, not wanting to believe that was happening to me, I started shaking my head and muttering _nos_ at the door as though it could hear me.

I heard movement behind me, like a burst of wind, and suddenly I had my back against the door and a cold hand tight around my throat and very wide, very blue eyes in front of me.

“What are you?” Eric Northman demanded in a growling voice I’d never heard before.

“Please let me go. I won’t say a word to anyone, please let me go!” I muttered, embarrassed for how scared I sounded, my hands again grasping at his wrist.

He wasn’t choking me, but he was certainly making sure I couldn’t move. The length of his forearm  down to his elbow was keeping me pinned to the door, pressing into my flesh.

“ _What_ are you?” he repeated, applying slight pressure around my throat. “I knew the moment I met you, you couldn’t be entirely human. You resisted my glamour, no human can do it, so I ask you again, for the last time – _what are you_?” he hissed, his face leaning even closer to mine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I gasped.

“I’m growing impatient Miss Stackhouse…” he warned, his eyes fluttering.

“You’re scaring me…” I breathed.

“It is called intimidation,” he deadpanned. “I threaten you, you tell me the truth so I won’t hurt you. Has no one ever explained these rules to you?” he was mocking me.

“There’s nothing to tell!” I snapped.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not human? What does that even mean?”

“You’re not like them…” he told me, a little quieter, his hand relaxed around my throat. “You don’t smell like them and I would bet you don’t taste like them either.” He ran his tongue between his lips, his eyes glazing over slightly as his eyes dropped to where his thumb brushed my neck over my pulse point. “Worst of all you can’t be glamoured…” he sighed and pulled away from me altogether.

I stayed glued to that door, not daring to move, watching as he backed away from me, a sudden helpless look about him and he ran his fingers through his hair. He finally turned his back to me, striding across the bedroom to stand by the large French window again. He braced his hand against the window frame and I could see his profile from where I stood. He gazed down at the woods and a deep frown settled on his forehead.

“What am I going to do with you now?”

I stood there, my chest heaving, my heart thumping in my ears. Everything that I had seen and heard in the last twenty-four hours came rushing through my mind.

“What… what are _you_?” I asked with more courage than I felt.

He looked over at me seriously and shook his head. “Miss Stackhouse, you don’t want to know.”

“You… you said you had to heal me… that I was bleeding internally…” I gasped. I knew I had been hurt before, I was in pain. How could he have healed me so quickly? “Is this… is this why Willa Burrell came home safe and sound, no blood? Did you heal her too?”

“Miss Stackhouse you should stop asking me questions…” he snarled, facing outside the window.

“Who were those people in the woods… what were they doing?” I just kept asking the questions as they came to me. I knew he had the answers, I just knew it. “Did you make Miss Burrell forget? Is that why she didn’t remember the blood?”

He was suddenly in front me. I didn’t see him move. He was just there, just as he had been by the window and he was growling at me – it was a different growl than that of the men in the woods though. He cupped my face in one hand, his thumb unexpectedly caressing my cheek as he tried to pull me into his eyes again. I just blinked my eyes and shook my head – I felt a slight pressure, and nothing more.

“I have a theory about you…” he whispered. “I must verify it before I take my next step.”

“What?” I blurted out.

“Please don’t exert yourself trying to escape. And don’t worry about your friend. I’ll make sure she has no reason to worry about your whereabouts…”

I blinked back at him, again feeling at loss. “What…?”

He suddenly moved me, picking me up and turning me around so we’d change places. He had his back to the door and I faced him. He lifted his finger in a silent warning. Then I blinked and he was gone. I saw the door closing and heard the sound of the key in the lock. Then there was complete silence.

I knocked on that door and I screamed until I had lost my voice. No one ever came, of course. Finally, exhausted. I walked back to the bed and curled into a ball, allowing myself to fall asleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

To my complete befuddlement I woke up in my own bed in the morning. I opened my eyes and I was in my bedroom, with my head on my own pillow, burrowed under my very own mantle. Sunlight seeped in freely through the open window, past my white curtains which billowed softly in the morning breeze.

I sat up in bed with a gasp and looked around me dubiously – a deep frown settling on my forehead. I knew it hadn’t all been a dream. It had all been too damn real. I shivered and my hand went up reflexively around my throat, as if I could still feel his cold grasp around it. I looked down at my front to see my undershirt from the day before, but when I peeled my covers my legs were bare. I frowned once again – no, it hadn’t been a dream!

I scrambled out of bed so I could stand and I caught my reflection on my full-length mirror by my door – I frowned even harder and narrowed my eyes as I stepped closer until I could see every pore on my face. I looked strangely… perfect… like those women in movies who woke up with makeup on and their hair made-up.

I blinked my eyes and pulled back. It wasn’t that I had terrible skin before, but it had been a little dry, and now it was smooth and unmarked, like baby’s bottom, and my hair, which was now loose and falling down my back shimmered in the light, as if I had been to the salon. I shook my head in confusion.

I looked around my room, maybe I was just dreaming  _ right now _ . Then my eyes landed on my backpack, resting on top of the chest underneath the window – the curtains billowed and floated over it, the fabric pushed against an envelope that had been resting on top of the backpack, and it slipped down to the carpeted floor. I blinked, staring at the thick red envelope, then back at my backpack. I scanned my room and saw the blue, stained velvet fabric of my tracksuit dangling out of my laundry basket.

I darted forward and removed the clothes from the basket and checked for the dirt stains I knew to be there. By now I had a perpetual frown as I dropped the stained clothes back in the basket, and looked over to my backpack again.

He had brought me home, undressed me down to my underwear, put my clothes to wash and left me a note? What were the chances I was really really dreaming?

Not many, I decided. I knew what reality felt like. So I padded over to where the red envelope had fallen and I picked it up. I grabbed my backpack from the top of the chest and hauled it over with me to the bed. I sat down on the mattress and dropped the backpack at my feet, and then I turned the envelope over in my hand and opened it.

I took a deep breath and retrieved a single sheet of thick white paper and unfolded it. His words on paper were long and slanted, with shiny black ink. I started to shake as I read.

_ Dear Sookie, _

_ I brought you home so you would wake up in a safe environment. _

_ Please know that I never meant you any harm, and my keeping you in my home last night was as much for your safety as it was for my own. _

_ I understand how absurd and unsettling the things you’ve witnessed may have seemed. You were never meant to see those things. Sometimes, it’s best to go through life not knowing. _

_ But you know much, and I cannot make you forget the way I could make Miss Burrell forget the awful things that happened to her in those woods. Although you both suffered different torments, I still wish I could spare you the way I spared her. _

_ I promise you those who hurt you will never do it again. _

_ You would have died in the woods if I had not helped you, so I hope you’ll forgive me a minor transgression. The manner in which I healed you might disturb you. I will tell you what I did, in time. I trust you are feeling better than you have ever felt. You may experience things differently for a little while – you will smell things better, feel things better, you’ll be stronger, faster – it’s all in my medicine. But it will pass. _

_ I ask you not to go to the police. If you do, things could get complicated, and no matter how I may personally feel about silencing you, I will do it. I ask you please don’t force my hand – the consequences for us both, and for this city, would be dire. _

_ I returned your camera to your backpack. I found it lying on the ground next to you, the film had been ripped out and exposed. Your attackers probably feared you photographed them doing their dark deeds – and if you indeed did it, I’m afraid there is no evidence now. I have also left you a small gift. Reading, they say, takes you to a whole new world. Perhaps a little escapism would do you well to forget your traumatic experience? _

_ Please take care Sookie – and don’t do anything I wouldn’t. We will meet again soon. _

_ E. _

My heart was hammering wildly about the time I finished reading it. I reached into the backpack for my camera and confirmed the film had been exposed. I sighed and tossed the camera on the bed. It was no matter – I had shown zero journalistic instincts at the time, I had never even reached for the camera. Mr. Nichols would have been horrified!

I re-read Eric Northman’s cryptic letter. He promised me he would tell me how he healed me. But he didn’t say anything about telling me what had been happening in those woods, what were those men digging and what happened to Willa Burrell! And he threatened me!

That brought up a whole new list of concerns. He spoke of consequences for him, for me, and for the city! What  _ was _  going on in those woods?

I reached into the backpack for his gift. It was an old book, the leather on the cover was very worn – the title had faded completely, so I opened to look into the title page. Eric had gifted me an old copy of Bram Stoker’s  _ Dracula _ . I blinked repeatedly, puzzled by the choice.

Before I could think any harder about it there was a knock on my bedroom door. Amelia was summoning me for breakfast.

I was suddenly starving. I put away the book and Mr. Northman’s letter, stuffing them back into the backpack with my camera, and  shoving the bag underneath my bed. I quickly washed in the bathroom, brushed my teeth and changed into clean clothes before walking downstairs where Amelia was already eating as she read the  _ Chronicle _ .

“Well don’t you look beautiful!” Amelia gasped when she saw me. “You have to tell me the brand of your new night cream!”

I had nothing to say to that, so  I just smiled and pulled up a chair, ready to eat something before going back to thinking about anything.

“You sure made home late last night!” Amelia observed with a twinkling eye.

I looked up from buttering my toast, suddenly blanching at the thought of Amelia having seen anything last night. “Yeah…” I said evasively and went back to my toast.

“Fine, don’t tell me anything!” Amelia shrugged in my peripheral and went back to the paper.

As we sat there, eating breakfast in companionable silence I noticed something. Something different about Amelia. She wasn’t saying anything, but her…  _ signature _  had  _ changed _ . I looked up curiously as she read her paper and sipped her coffee. Amelia’s mind was usually busy and loud when I poked at it – but right then, she was  _ humming _ … like Miss Buck in the Landry House, and the fog and haze were there too… like with Miss Burrell.

I stared at her too long and Amelia looked up at me. “What’s up with you?”

I shook my head and tried to go back to my breakfast. “Sorry I…. I was just thinking…”

“Some night you must have had!” Amelia snorted.

We were cleaning up the kitchen when the bell rang and Amelia dropped the dishcloth saying she’d get it in a sing-song voice. I nodded and carried on washing dishes.

A moment later two sets of footsteps walked into the room and I turned around to see Amelia leading my brother Jason inside. He looked pale and exhausted and his eyes were red-rimmed and wet. I turned around, wiping my hands on my apron and frowning.

“Jason…? What happened?”

This is where the story of how I met Eric takes a brief but painful detour – to become the story of how I lost my parents.

Jason had come to tell me our mother and father had died in a flash flood in Bon Temps the previous night – their bodies had been found that morning, and he made the 45 miles drive to tell me personally.

There was not a lot of space in my mind for mysterious stories of monsters in the woods, or equally mysterious land owners who assumed they could hypnotize people and make them stop bleeding internally. It was easy to push all of that away – and I did.

I remember that day still as it wasn’t so long ago – though I’ve been told they’ll once be distant memories. But it is all too sharp and clear, the loss, the pain, the hopelessness. How does someone simply stop…  _ being _ ?

I drove to Bon Temps with my brother and Amelia, to Gran’s house – and I remember needing her embrace more than anyone else’s. She was inconsolable herself, talking about how it wasn’t right that they had to go first.

The  _ Chronicle _  gave me a week off, so I stayed in Bon Temps with her and Jason. We had the wake, and then the funeral. I had to read in the paper about how the bridge collapsed and Daddy’s car got dragged by the stream, with had been overflowing because of the storm – there was a photograph of their car, half-submerged. It was all surreal and painful.

Amelia stayed in Gran’s house with me, and she held me and just let me cry as much as I wanted. A week later, when it was time to drive back home, I didn’t want to.

I will always admire my Gran. She was the strongest woman I had ever met – if I hadn’t had her to admire, maybe I would have been a different person. I forced myself to get up and go back to the city.

My thoughts were still about my parents, and my childhood, and growing up in that house by the lake, and just being happy. None of my thoughts were of the case of Willa Burrell or anything that happened after that.

But when I returned to my bed, when I went back to work, to my routine, strange things started to happen.

I could  _ hear _  people better than ever, all the time, everywhere, one over the other, so it was hard to concentrate. During my first day back at work, I’d had to lock myself in the bathroom for twenty minutes until my migraine went away, and I’d swallowed half a bottle of aspirin. I nearly went to my friend Renée for some drugs that day, anything to make it all stop. But in the past, every time my… condition progressed, I had learned it was  a matter of time, a matter of pushing through until I was relatively used to it.

I also began having strange, incredibly vivid dreams. Eric Northman was always in them. It was disconcerting. I was extremely confused because for a whole week I’d had dreamless nights. I went to bed always feeling so exhausted after long days of visitors and reminiscing and boxing things up - my mind didn’t have time conjuring up anything memorable enough for my conscious mind to remember in the morning. But now that I was home, and for all intents and purposes everything was normal again, I kept seeing him in my dreams.

At first he was just there, I could see him standing somewhere, just staring back at me. His eyes were a clear crystal blue – he wore his long house coat open at the front, the unusual glow of his skin seemed brighter. Then the dreams became more… intimate.

I hadn’t been a prude or into abstinence before that - but touching people was complicated when it meant I could hear them more clearly. The older I was, the easier it was to hear them, the sharper people’s voices were, and the more inevitable it became to listen in.

 Therefore my few sexual experiences had happened when I was in college, and large quantities of alcohol were involved – when thoughts coming from my partners about my body or what I was doing right or wrong couldn’t hit me. But eventually getting drunk out of my mind just to be able to engage in sexual activities started to bother me, so I stopped doing it. While sober, it just became harder to shut out what I didn’t want to hear, and I had never met anyone whose thoughts I could block when things started getting steamy, because once  _ I _  got aroused and  _ into it _ , it was like I couldn’t turn it off. Thus was born Nun Sookie, sober and sexually frustrated.

So when my dreams of him shifted to sex dreams, I was a little shocked, because they were all more satisfying than the actual awake sex I’d had while drunk, with equally drunk, sometimes stoned men.

Obviously I didn’t know what to make of it. It all started and ramped up in the space of one week, the week after I returned from mourning my parents. Because they were nocturnal occurrences, I tried not to let them bother me too much. I’d wake up and feel slightly flushed for the things dream-Sookie did, and then I’d just go about my day and try to stop thinking about it. But I thought about him constantly anyway – as though he was always on my mind.

I had started to wonder what he’d done to me that night. In his letter he’d mentioned I’d feel different for a while. I would be stronger, faster, I would smell things and feel things better – I had also quickly associated the improvement in my general appearance to whatever he gave me to  _ heal _  me. Were the dreams part of it too?  Was he really some mad scientist and I one of his lab rats?

I would have read his letter more times to try to find new clues, but when I dug my backpack out from under the bed after the first night in which I awoke from a dream of him, one of the first innocent ones too, I discovered his letter was gone – in its place he’d left me a single, dried up, black rose – he was giving me his condolences… It meant he’d been to my house again, to my room, without either me or Amelia being aware of it.

By Friday on my first week back, I was lying in bed at night, as sleep wouldn’t come, staring through my open window into the evening – and then a thought occurred to me. I rolled over to lean down over the side of the bed and drag my backpack out again. I rummaged through it until my fingers clasped around the old worn book he’d left for me. I picked it up, frowning at its faded cover, trapping my bottom lip between my teeth thoughtfully.

Again I opened it onto its title page and stared at the title.  _ Dracula _ . What was the point of this? I had never actually read the book – I knew people who had, and I was vaguely aware of  the Christopher Lee movie, but that was about as familiar as I was with that story.

I lay back down in bed and started to read. I had no dreams that night, because I didn’t sleep at all. I read the book until my eyes were stinging and my head hurting but I got through it in one night – it was already morning when I closed it, my mouth hanging, my heart hammering. In my mind I’d made absurd connections… Eric Northman wasn’t some crazy scientist, but perhaps he had some disquieting delusions. It seemed he expected to convince me he was vampire…

I wanted to laugh at the simple absurdity. But the clues were in there in the story, in there and in all the vampire legend and lore I’d read about or heard about growing up. The most relevant to me were the ones that made me think about Eric Northman.

Dracula was weakened by the sun, but unlike most modern depictions of vampires, it didn’t kill him. I wondered what that meant for Mr. Northman and his rare photosensitivity condition. I thought about his abnormal pale skin, the way it seemed to glow, and how cold he was to the touch... dead cold? I thought then about the men digging that hole in the dirt in the woods and the wailing I heard afterwards… In all honesty, had I not seen that with my own eyes I would have readily diagnosed him as clinically insane… But I had seen something hadn’t I? I could still remember the smell… The imagery was too appropriate for his supposed delusions…

But as I sat there thinking about that story I realized what he really wanted me to understand was what he had done to me – after all, he  _ had _  said he would tell me what it was in time, perhaps he meant for me to find out by myself. In the book, Count Dracula gives his blood to Mina so he can control her, it ties her to him – only once he is killed she is set free. Had Eric Northman given me his blood? I remembered the metallic taste in my mouth upon waking…

Was that the reason my mind kept going to him when I was awake? Was that the reason he inhabited it in my dreams?

Did that mean he could control me? And was the seduction depicted in that book somehow what Eric seemed to be referring to when he said he could make people forget? Could he really hypnotize them? If so why couldn’t he hypnotize me? And how absurd was that I was sitting in bed seriously considering the possibility the city’s newest resident was a vampire?

I decided then I would have to be proactive again. Mr. Northman had left me alone so far, probably because I had never gone to the police. But I didn’t know what the future could bring, especially if he  _ had _  some control over me. If he was responsible for those dreams I had to know, I had to know if these absurd ideas in my head were real, and if they were real, what they meant. And if vampires existed, then what the hell was I? He had the answers, he’d told me he had a theory. I had to know.

So after breakfast I changed into simple jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed his book and tossed it onto the passenger’s seat, and started driving towards the highway, so I could get to the Landry House. It was daylight – would he be sleeping in a coffin? I wanted to laugh and think the idea absurd, but I didn’t know what was absurd anymore, so I kept driving.

When I arrived outside his property the gates were surprisingly open. As I drove by, slowly, I saw two men in gardening overalls, one sweeping dried leaves, the other shoveling them into a metal yard cart. Both men stopped what they were doing as they saw me. I kept driving until I pulled up in front of the entrance.

As I stepped out of the car and glanced at the mansion, I noticed all windows on both floors had the heavy blackout curtains pulled over them. I shook myself, trying to ignore the absolute strangeness and dread that were creeping into me and I marched up the door, noticing the brass knocker I’d completely missed the first time I was here. While I thought about using it or looking for a doorbell I heard the key in the lock and stepped back.

Miss Buck swung the door opened between us and smiled brightly at me, a curious expression on her face.

“Well hi! You’re that journalist, aren’t you? The one who dropped by a couple of weeks ago?”

“Ah… yes… that’s me… Sookie Stackhouse…” I offered her my hand.

She blinked at the gesture curiously, I bet visitors didn’t often bother to shake hands with her, but I wanted to test something, so I insisted. She took my hand and smiled politely. I narrowed my eyes as I searched her mind. The humming was gone, but she still felt quite distant mentally speaking.

… _ need to remember to get rid of the spoiled groceries… _

That was all I could get from her. Spoiled groceries. I sighed.

“Is Mr. Northman home?” I asked.

“Oh…” Miss Buck blinked at me. “No, I’m afraid Mr. Northman is out.”

“ _ Out _ ?” I smiled with an innocent shrug of my shoulders. “I thought Mr. Northman couldn’t go out during the day due to his condition? What is that called again?” I added with narrowed eyes and a curious tone to my voice.

“Oh ah… it’s some… complicated Latin name…” Miss Buck said, cocking her hip to the side and waving it away, suddenly very comfortable around me. “I know they call it  _ XP _  for short… really rare thing! They said people who stay out in the sun get horrible blisters…” she shuddered. “That’s why Mr. Northman is really careful!” she sighed. “And he left last night, for out-of-town business…” she added in answer to my first question. “But I can take a note and you could leave your telephone number!”

As I listened to her and watched her I noticed her thoughts were clearer this time at the same time there was still an impenetrable wall somewhere.

“Oh… that’s too bad then. You know what… I will search him out at another time. It’s alright.”

“As you wish!” Miss Buck shrugged. “Have a nice day then!”

I smiled and turned my back, walking into my car and closing my door. Miss Buck didn’t wait for me to leave to close the door and I sat there thinking. I glanced at the windows again, and wondered why were all windows so carefully covered if the owner of the house who depended on such measures wasn’t home? And where was he?

I glanced down at the book on my passenger seat and started thinking, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. I finally grabbed it, opened it and picked up my pen, leaving a short message upon the blank, milky see-through page before the title-page -  _ I know _ , I wrote boldly _. _

I pushed my door opened and marched purposefully back to the front door, I looked around until I found the buzzer and rang the bell. Another two minutes passed before I heard the lock turning once more and Miss Buck glanced outside, now a little nervous, her mind more confusing than a few moments ago.

… _ what does she want… they’ll complain about the smell… need to take the trash out… _

“Hi! I’m sorry!” I laughed nervously, toying with my hair innocently. “I just… I remembered I came by to return this too!” I stretched my hand towards the gap in the door, holding the book for her. Miss Buck stared at the book in my hand with wide eyes as though it was meant to hurt her. “I borrowed it from Mr. Northman… could you make sure he gets it back with my thanks?”

She blinked repeatedly and, finally deciding the book wasn’t poisonous, reached out with her right hand to grasp it – as she did this, her long sleeve pulled back a little and I could see, on the inside of her wrist, two distinguishing puncture marks. She grasped the book and pulled her hand back, never noticing the way I stared or the gasp that escaped my mouth.

“Thank you, Miss Stackhouse. I’ll let Master Eric know…” she said before quickly closing the door between us.

I stood there with the lion-head brass knocker staring back at me furiously – a strange thought in my head.  _ Master Eric _ ? A minute ago he had been Mr. Northman…

I shook myself from the strangeness and decided to let it go for the moment. I walked back to my car and drove away.

I questioned my intelligence several times during the ride. What had I been trying to say when I scribbled that note on the inside of his book? Would he read it as a threat? Surely not – he’d meant for me to know the truth…. delusions or no delusions…

I was back and forth constantly between wanting to believe it was all real and wanting to believe I was dealing with an insane man and a few unexplainable events to go along with his story. The civilized, educated part of me insisted this was insanity. Monsters weren’t real…

But it was the change  _ in _  me that had me most terrified  and convinced it was all true. At night, in bed, no matter how much I’d thought about the loss of my parents and how it hurt that they were gone, I would dream of Eric, and his cold, pale beauty, and I would dream we would do the most unspeakably wonderful things together.

That Saturday night, the first night I slept after having read the book and come to my… conclusions, I dreamt of him again, except this time, Eric had fangs – sharp and deadly – yet when he used them on me, I felt like I was floating and all the pain and suffering I’d ever carried on my shoulders drained out of me as he drank my blood. I woke up in a state, confused, sweaty, aroused… Then I was shivering because of my open window and the wind against my now damp skin. I panted as  gazed out the window, into the darkness, suddenly afraid of eyes watching me.

I scrambled out of bed and closed my windows, putting the latch on and then pulling my curtains over it. Then I padded out of my bedroom, into the bathroom, to wash my face and neck, and the skin on my arms, watching my reflection with a big frown. I grabbed a towel and wiped it over my skin and left the bathroom. The door to Amelia’s bedroom flung opened suddenly and she was giggling while a man I didn’t know grabbed her from behind and tickled her.

Both of them stopped, seeing me there and I gaped back at them. Upon closer inspection, I recognized the man – his name was Bob, and he and Amelia had been on and off since college.

“Hi, Sook!” he waved at me.

I waved back tiredly. “Hey, Bob…”

Amelia turned around and whispered something into his ear and then they grinned at each other. Bob nodded at me again and snuck back into the room, closing the door to the hallway. Amelia looked up at me curiously, cocking her head to the side.

“Are you OK?” she asked me.

I shook my head before I could help myself and then Amelia walked up to me and wrapped her arms around me.

“I was going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

So we walked downstairs to the kitchen and Amelia put some water in the kettle while I sat down.

 “Ames… remember the night of October 15 th ? That Monday I was out all day?” she nodded curiously. “You mentioned, on Tuesday morning, that I’d come in late… did you…  _ see _  me coming home?”

Amelia stopped what she was doing to glance at me over her shoulder curiously. “You know… I don’t…  _ remember _  seeing, or hearing you come home at all.”

“Well… then how did you know I’d come home late?” I prodded.

Amelia turned around altogether, leaning against the sink and watching me with confusion. She seemed to be thinking hard. I took a deep breath and prodded hard at her mind from where I sat. She was retracing her steps on Monday night. She had been in bed early, she was worried I hadn’t come home yet, then there was a knock on the door downstairs and she got up – then there was a strange haze, like a radio in-between stations, and she was getting back to bed, thanking God I was home.

“I think I… must have heard you come in…” Amelia said, staring at the ceiling with a frown. “Yeah, I think that’s it… I never left my room, but I heard the door… I heard you coming back!” she shrugged. “Why?” she asked casually, turning to check the kettle on the oven.

I was staring at a blank spot on the wall. Eric had brought me home, he’d knocked, he’d put me on my bed and then he’d made Amelia  _ forget _  he was ever there. That’s what he must have done to Willa Burrell too – he said he made her forget what’d happened to her in the woods. The sorority girls had been right, there had been blood. But Eric made her forget about it. I wondered then if Willa had a run in with the same men I had… but I wasn’t sure. Eric seemed to say we went through different problems.

My head was hurting. At least the tea calmed me down a little. And by the time I went to bed again, I was too tired for dreams.

But every night after that, when I dreamt of Eric, he had fangs, as if I was trying to convince myself from the inside out.

The following week was the last week of October, and people at work were discussing the big Halloween party at City Hall. I wasn’t in the mood for parties, I still had my parents’ photograph on my desk, staring at me every day. I couldn’t think about parties – but I knew I’d have to go, Mr. Nichols had put me on photography duty, which felt like a demotion, but wasn’t unlikely to happen when you were in my position. I sighed, ignoring my colleagues chattering about costumes in the break room. Then, as I came to the water cooler for a refresher, I halted in my steps, staring at the bulletin board – where we’d pin the highlights for each week.

There were two Missing Persons’ Reports, to be printed on the next Sunday Edition. I stepped closer, looking at the pictures. A large man with dark curly hair and green eyes, a smaller, but bulky man with a receding hairline… My attackers… the growling men…

With my hands shaking I read the notes beneath the pictures. The dark-haired one’s name was Alcide Herveaux, and the balding one was John Flood. The notes beneath each picture said the men were last seen together, at a bar off the road heading to Bon Temps on October 16 th  at around ten o’clock at night. I knew the bar in question. It wasn’t very far from the east end of those woods. And they’d disappeared the night after they attacked me. I knew those men would never be seen again.

The day before Halloween I drove to the City Library during my lunch break. I wanted to look up the Disease and Ailments Dictionary – remembering Miss Buck gave me the  _ XP _  initials to go with, it wasn’t hard to find it. It was a  _ real _  disease after all –  _ Xeroderma pigmentosum _  – the description certainly helped Mr. Northman’s story, even if less than half of the people who suffered from this disease lived past the age of 20, he could easily be the exception. But there wasn’t much information to go on, given the rarity of the condition, meaning he could spin his tale however he liked it and no one would question him.

I thought about that on my way back to work. I was back to the  _ is it real - is it not real  _ debate. But it was a wasteful effort – even if I tried to find skeptical approaches, such as my trip to the library, inside I had already accepted the truth – since my dream-Eric always refused to retract his fangs.

I went to bed that night, reasoning with myself that, even if after the little note I’d left on his book, Eric Northman hadn’t come by to kill me, then he really did mean that as long as I didn’t go to the police he wouldn’t harm me. So I slept peacefully that night, and strangely, I didn’t dream about him. If I had dreamt at all, I couldn’t remember.

When October 31 st  finally came, I arrived at work to see a costume bag lying on my desk. I unzipped it to take a peek and I had to laugh at the obvious choice – a witch. I shrugged it off and hung it on a drawer’s handle behind me before sitting on my desk and going to work.

I had a normal day until around lunchtime when I went to a restaurant with my colleagues. I took a break to smoke outside on the street. And while I was there leaning against the wall, just watching people and the cars driving by, I saw Willa Burrell sauntering across the street, arm in arm with a girlfriend of hers. I got an itching to go after her, so I did. I got rid of my cigarette and jogged across the street so I could get behind her, as I gained on her and on her friend I slowed down, tucking by hands in my pockets and trying to look like I was just casually going somewhere like everyone else. Then I just tuned in and tried to  _ listen _ .

Her girlfriend’s thoughts were pretty clear – as were everyone’s thoughts around me. And I had to shake myself to try to focus on Willa’s thoughts only. Her thoughts were clearer this time – she was thinking about shopping, food, and the Halloween party she was going to. There were no thoughts about anything traumatic having happened to her recently, or ever, her thoughts were normal thoughts of a college girl preparing for a fun night. Then, after I’d been following her for around a whole block, a single thought popped out that caught my attention.

_ …will I see Mr. Northman tonight? Oh I wish… _

They were the thoughts of an infatuated girl and I immediately understood. She must have been dreaming about him constantly too!

_ …a shame he would never look at me like that… oh I wish he would… _

I was torn between trying to hear more, or wanting to stop altogether because I was suddenly stricken by unexplainable and unwarranted jealousy. I kept following her for half a block more, and she thought more about him, and I knew she was thinking about her dreams. I couldn’t see precise  _ images _  of what people were thinking, mostly I heard their voices – but sometimes, if the thought was very graphic, like Willa’s were at the moment, I could see something. And I stopped myself on the sidewalk and let her and her friend go.

We were Lucy and Mina from  _ Dracula _ , we were under his spell. Had he given us both his blood? And what did it mean? What was fact? What was fiction? When would I know? Would  _ I _ ever see him again? 

I turned around and walked back to the restaurant, to find my disgruntled colleagues waiting for me outside the restaurant. We walked back to or building, and I tried to focus on work again. Around  six it was clock out time. As I stood up to pick up my stuff I glared at the garment bag and sighed, knowing I couldn’t escape this, no matter how much I wanted to.

I went home and showered. Amelia wasn’t coming, she had her Wiccan stuff to do. My costume was quite plain. Just a long, satin-like black dress, with long Bishop sleeves and tight bodice that pushed my tits up together rather painfully. But really the whole costume was the hat, it was large and pointy, without it I was just a girl in a black corset-dress. The black and white striped socks were a nice touch, but barely visible under the long skirt.

I dressed up, fluffed my hair and, taking advantage of the fact my tresses were still unnaturally shiny and silky I curled them softly and let them hang around my shoulders and back, before fixing the hat to the top of my head. I grabbed my camera and my purse, and left.

The City Hall was well-lit and decorated with Jack O’Lanterns everywhere. Most of the guests were rich people who donated a lot of money to the Mayor’s re-election campaign, and journalists, of course, lots of journalists. Sadly, me being a simple junior writer, I’d been relegated the task of photographing whoever my colleague decided to interview. The journalist the  _ Chronicle _  assigned for the night was Richard Burns, one of the oldest, and most blatantly anti-female journalists in the workplace, so I expected him to be extremely unpleasant to me.

I made my way up the marble stairs, presented my Press pass and got inside. I got my camera out and started circling around, taking some broad snapshots of the event.

The place was already very crowded, and I noticed the elderly had opted for simply wearing funny or spooky masks. I saw some of the local political celebrities and positioned for some candid shots. Thanks to my camera, and my pass, it was easier to dismiss men trying to get me to dance with them, or refuse drinks from strangers. Some were more persistent than others, but then I would quickly find an excuse, saying I’d  _ seen someone _ _ I needed to photograph _ .

I had been walking around for about an hour when Burns finally found me, coming to stand next to me on the elevated portion of the hall, where I could see almost everything. He huffed impatiently at me, as he fixed his tie. I looked up at him, frowning, he wasn’t in costume – he was wearing a simple tuxedo.

“Why didn’t they make you wear a costume?” I blurted out.

Burns looked down at me with annoyance, and then smirked as he trailed his eyes up and down my costume. “Well, I assume it’s because that corset looks best on you, my dear…” he said as he looked up, holding his head high as he finished fussing with his silly looking bow tie.

“Well… they could have given you a tux that looked better  _ on you _ …” I muttered back, sticking my own smug smirk on as I looked away at the party, aware he’d snapped his head at me, insulted.

He huffed next to me, and I could see him checking his watch from my peripheral. “Well, I best get started with this  _ pointless shit _ … just… follow me and try not to get in the way!”

I said nothing to that and simply did as he said, keeping a wide berth from him. He started with a senator, and I stood by and listened, making mental notes about his questions, some of them were really unnecessary, and some of the really good ones went completely unanswered, but that’s a politician for you, you’ll ask them something and they’ll somehow turn the question around to talk about something entirely different. His thoughts weren’t much better either – but it was more difficult to distinguish between voices in a room so crowded.

When they were done, I intruded and asked for a picture of him and his wife, they happily posed for me with twin smiles.

He interviewed two more people before he told me to go  _ take a break _  while he  _ took his _ . I watched as he made a beeline for the bar. I walked around by myself, and went looking for a glass of water so I could take two aspirin with it – my head had started to pound, I was certain I should have visited my friend Renée before this party by then.

I walked back into the hall and looked over to the bar, seeing Burns still happy to just chat up some lady in a ladybug costume. I decided to take advantage and step outside on the patio for a moment, and take a break from all the noise, and all the voices.

I didn’t even mind the cold. The silence alone was worth the goose-bumps. I walked farther and farther away from the large glass doors to the hall, very few people ventured outside because of the chilly wind. I stood by some large, bare tree and just sighed, waiting for the aspirin to do its job. I stared up and down the dark, nearly black bark of the tree as I tried to block the few stray thoughts from people walking around the patio. I reached for a cigarette, and as I lit it a single stray thought floated past me.

_ …isn’t that the foreign fellow who bought the Murder House? _

I stilled with my cigarette dangling from my mouth. I turned around and there he was, causing a bit of commotion as several of the people loitering about turned to look and whispered among themselves.

I couldn’t blame them, it was hard not to gawk when a giant man waltzes by in a black, fitting cassock. He walked towards me at a leisure pace, his blue eyes were crystal clear this evening, his blonde hair looked thicker and longer than it had been last time I saw him. His cheeks were slightly flushed this evening, he looked less pale. The black cassock was elegant and fitting, as though it was some real cleric’s robes and not some cheap, off the rack costume.

“A witch, Sookie…” he finally spoke as he came to a stop in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck upwards. “Now we both know witchcraft isn’t quite where your magic comes from…”

His voice was smooth, and I realized I missed it, I missed its silky, soft quality, I missed its cadence – I missed what it did to me physically. I shuddered, reminding myself that was just trickery –  _ his _  trickery… his magic, to use his own words.

“Isn’t it?” I cocked my head to the side.

“No…” he shook his head slowly. “You’re something more sophisticated than that.”

I snorted. “Thank you…” his eyes trailing over my body made me shudder and I fought to conceal the effect he had on me. “Who are  _ you  _ supposed to be?” I nodded towards his costume, giving him a blatant, but less carnal once-over.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Father Merrin.”

I gaped at him. “The Exorcist?” I chuckled. “That’s a… darker choice…”

He smiled at my nervous chuckle, and then suddenly he became serious, almost sad, his eyes drooped and they trailed over me, but with concern this time.

“I was saddened to hear about your parents… I know it’s very recent…I’m very sorry for your loss.”

I was taken aback by the sudden change of subject and I tried to divert it by shrugging it off. “Life goes on right?” I thought about thanking him for the dried rose, but refrained. Mentioning anything about our strangeness seemed inappropriate in such a public venue.

“It does…” he nodded. “But you’re in pain.”

I shrugged again. “It will pass…”

I was using the same ridiculous platitudes people had tossed at me for the past two weeks – it was easier than going into such personal territory with the man who already invaded the privacy of my dreams.

His eyes fell on my cigarette, dangling from my fingers. “You shouldn’t smoke.”

I blinked at him, going back in time to our first meeting, when I’d been certain he’d been just behind me when he said those same words right after having  _ smelled _  me – so perhaps he really had after all. I blinked at him silently as I decided how that made me feel.

“Stackhouse!” a bark ripped through the air.

I jerked in place, my heart jumping to my throat. Both Mr. Northman and I turned to see Richard Burns marching towards me, looking impatient.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” he barked as he approached, his eyes flitted over to Mr. Northman before returning to me. “You’re not here to  _ flirt _ , you’re here to work!  _ Come on! _ ” with that he turned around, marching away, fully expecting me to just fall into step.

I huffed at him angrily, my cheeks flushing hard. It was very difficult not to hate that man.

“I am sorry to have kept you…” Eric said politely next to me.

“It’s not your fault…” I shook my head, turning my face to him. “He’s just generally unpleasant to any colleague who wears a skirt…” I sighed. “I have to go though… I… good evening, Mr. Northman…” I turned quickly to walk way.

It happened so fast, anyone watching wouldn’t have noticed. But I felt his sudden, cool grip around my left wrist and he kept me in place for a brief second in which I felt his cool breath against my neck. “I will see you later… we have much to discuss… about what   _ you know _ …”

He let me go, as suddenly as he had stopped me, and I marched away without ever looking back, trying to attribute the constant shivers going through my body to the chill of the night.

 


	4. Chapter 4

At the end of that night, October 31st, 1979, I met my first demon. At a quarter to midnight I had been given leave to go home. So I left the illuminated City Hall and walked down the long path down the street directly behind it, holding my now bothersome witch’s hat in my left hand.

Noises behind me faded, laughter of other guests going home, the distant music, cars zooming past in the busy avenue above. Downwards where the street turned into a corner, several bare trees made impossible a clear view of what lay ahead. But I could see him clearly, as I stepped closer, because he’d chosen to stand right beside my car.

He was tall and lean, olive-skinned, with an Aquiline nose, and balding black hair – his eyes were dark brown, and he followed my progression with them, while standing still in a black suit. His stillness was different from Eric’s – it was more forced, like that of a sentinel.

Perhaps I should have been more afraid than I was, but to my recollection, from the moment I landed my eyes on him my legs seemed to carry me forward, in spite of my wanting to turn around, walk away and refuse to return until that strange figure was gone. I say figure, because although he looked like a man, I knew instantly upon looking at him, that he wasn’t one. I  _was_  afraid, but it didn’t stop me from walking closer and closer.

I stopped a mere arm’s length away from him, and he stared down at me – he was at least as tall as Eric, but smaller of build. He had a scent about him, it was very different – it wasn’t unpleasant, he smelled like leaves. His mind was… like a cacophony one second, and absolute silence the next. His eyes narrowed as the noises faded.

“Sookie Stackhouse as I understand.”

His voice was human, and not human at the same time, it is quite difficult to describe, but it was as though, when he spoke, more than one voice could be heard.

I felt as though my feet had been firmly stuck to the ground, and as though I couldn’t look away from him if I wanted to.

“Yes, that’s me…  _why_?”

He blinked once, and like when Eric blinked, it seemed like a calculated gesture. “You don’t know this, but you and I have something in common.”

“Do we…?” I managed a tiny step back. “What is that…?”

_We both hear too much._

I gasped, and backed into the side of my car, my eyes on his lips, lips that hadn’t moved.

I’d heard his voice inside me the way I did when I heard other people’s thoughts, but his  _voice_  was entirely different – it was like the  _other_  voice I heard when he spoke naturally was amplified, and it came accompanied by that unbearable noise I heard before.

“What… what are you?” I gasped, touching the roof of my car and edging closer to my door, ready to make a run for it if I had to.

“I wouldn’t frighten you with titles and names _…”_ he continued calmly. “I am afraid I am responsible for your troubles.”

“Yeah? What troubles?” I had my back to my door now, and my hand on the handle, I had my car key firmly clutched in my other hand – my hat had already fallen to the ground.

“Your telepathy is my work. Your telepathy brought you to Eric Northman. It was a mistake to gift Fintan’s progeny with my blood… you’ll be a slave to your abilities. They won’t let you be.”

I gaped at him speechlessly, trying to grasp his meaning, but having an extremely difficult time understanding what was happening to me at that moment was real. It didn’t seem to perturb him. He took one step closer, and I, having no more space to back into, simply held my breath when he reached out and took a strand of my hair between his fingers – I don’t know whether it was meant as a tender gesture – to me, at that moment, it looked like he was clinically examining me, as I trembled in my shoes.

“I will make it go away…” he told me and he reached with his index and middle fingers and touched my forehead, right above the bridge of my nose.

I didn’t feel anything as he touched me, except for the human warmth of his skin. But as he pulled them away, it was like he’d tugged a long string of yarn along with him and I shut my eyes tightly closed, trying to shake it off. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

I looked up and down the empty street, my own breathing was all I could hear, inside my body I felt nothing strange, but in my head, in my head I felt a migraine so great I thought I was going to double over and vomit.

I started to shake, and to slide down against my car. Suddenly hands clutched my elbows and lifted me up, I couldn’t see clearly, there was a fog in front of my eyes, I couldn’t  _hear_  anything from whoever had held me – but then, through the thin fabric of my sleeves I felt his familiar cool skin.

“Eric…” I breathed with a relief that surprised me.

I lost consciousness, falling into a deep abyss of pure silence and strangely…  _light_.

When I came to, many hours had passed and I was again in the comfort of the large four-poster bed in the Landry House. My eyes fluttered open in the dark room, and I could smell the sheets, and feel the softness of the pillow and mattress. But as I looked across from me, beyond the foot of the bed, I noticed the blackout curtains pulled over the window, which made the room much darker, and made me wonder at the time.

As I rolled my head to my side, I discovered the only light in the room came from a candle atop a console table, above which hung a large, mirror in a lavish golden frame. I pushed myself into a sitting position, feeling a bit like my blood had been replaced by jello.

I scrambled out of the large bed, a little slower than usual, and looked down at myself to discover I was still wearing the black witch’s dress – although Eric had thoughtfully removed the tight corset, so that I felt like I was wearing a long, slightly sinister nightgown. I felt weakened, and my skin felt clammy from sweat.

I tried to find a proper light switch. As I pawed at the wallpapered walls the door to the bedroom opened and closed and I turned around, lethargically, to see Miss Buck, who easily reached for and flipped a switch next to the door.

She gaped at me, and I wondered at how horrible I looked. She wore a different, grey uniform today, and she brought large fluffy towels in her arms.

“Miss Stackhouse, are you feeling strong enough to get out of bed?” she asked gently.

I stared at her in horror as she spoke to me. I couldn’t  _hear_  her. I couldn’t  _hear_  her thoughts at all, or feel her mind… it was gone. It was all gone!

“Oh my God…” I slid down the wall, my legs unable to hold me anymore.

“Are you alright?” Miss Buck dropped the towels onto the nearest surface and rushed to my side, dropping to her knees. “Do you want me to get Master Eric?”

“Is Master Eric a doctor?” I asked drowsily as I lifted a hand to my temple, I could feel the beginnings of another terrible migraine.

“Well… no…” Miss Buck said at a loss. “But I know he could make you better!”

Yes. I knew that too. And I wondered why he hadn’t done it already. I stared at her frowning really hard as I tried to read her thoughts, but I couldn’t. My eyes watered and my head pounded with the effort.

“I uh… I brought some towels for whenever you want to take a bath – and I can get started on breakfast really quick, you just have to say the word!”

I gave up hearing her thoughts and sighed, thumping my head back against the wall. “What’s your name?”

“Ginger…” she answered with a smile.

“Very well, Ginger…” I sighed. “A bath and breakfast would be nice… can you help me get up on my feet?”

Ginger helped me and then walked me to the ensuite bathroom. I would have taken a moment to gape at how lavish and beautiful it was, but I was feeling terrible. So I just sat on the toilet seat and watched Ginger drawing a bath for me. She turned around and left, returning with the towels a moment later.

“Mr. Northman left some clothes for you… they’ll probably be too big, but I’ll help you work something out…” she smiled. “I’ll leave you alone now… yell if you need me!”

I took a long bath – both because I enjoyed it and because I was doing everything so slowly. For a moment I wondered if I’d need to call Ginger to get out of the bath, but I managed. I pulled one of the towels and dried myself as best as I could before wrapping it around me and stepping back into the bedroom.

Ginger was waiting for me with breakfast already on the little cart by the bed. I padded over to the small pile of clothes Eric had left for me, and Ginger helped me sort through it. In the end I picked one of his large house-coats – the way we managed to wrap it around me, it looked more like a kimono, but it made me feel warm enough, and it was surprisingly soft. It also smelled like him – again I was surprised by how familiar and comforting it was to have something of his against my own skin.

I sat down in a plush armchair, feeling cozy and protected by him, even if he wasn’t around. I ate the breakfast Ginger made for me, and after I did I felt unusually tired, and wanted nothing more than to go back to bed.

“What time is it?” I asked as put the fork down and clasped the back of my neck, feeling my muscles unusually tender. “Maybe I should go home…”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Ginger said, looking uncertain. “I’ll call for Mr. Northman.”

“Why? It’s not like he can drive me in the daylight, right?” I snorted, feeling my head pounding again.

Ginger gave me a small smile and a shrug of her shoulders. “I’ll call him anyway.”

She left silently and I pushed the food cart away, forcing myself onto my feet. I shuffled towards the mirror at the other side of the bed, hanging above the console table with the now burnt out candle. I checked my reflection curiously. Despite my feeling horrible, the effect of Eric’s blood was still visible. As I stood there, trying to find signs of some horrible disease I heard the door opening and then closing, I saw his reflection on the mirror as he stopped to watch me from the other side of the bed.

“Well… there goes  _that_  vampire myth…” I blurted tiredly.

“Ah yes…” he sneered as he started walking around the bed. “We cannot be seen upon mirrors, nor can we be photographed, because we have  _no souls_ …” he smiled as he appeared from behind one of the bed posters. “That’s silly superstition that ignores basic science...”

“Where’s the science in being  _undead_ …?” I raised an eyebrow.

He smiled even more. “ _Touché…_ ”

I turned around to face him properly and then I blinked in confusion, noticing his long hair swept into a loose ponytail behind him, I knew it was long because a few loose strands framed his face.

“Your hair…” I reached out unthinkingly, taking one silky tendril between my fingers, frowning as the most horrifying thought crossed my mind. “H… how… have I been here for? Months?” I gasped and pulled back, dropping my hand, suddenly fearing whatever that thing had done to me had sent me into a coma and my Gran and Jason and Amelia were thinking I was dead somewhere.

“No, Sookie, not months…” Eric reached behind him and whipped out the elastic from his hair, letting it fall loosely around his shoulders and back. “It grows overnight, back to the way it was as I died.”

“Oh…” I sighed, closing my eyes. “Okay…”

“You feel sick…” he noted.

“I don’t know how I feel… I feel slow mostly…” I sighed. “I couldn’t hear Ginger… I don’t know why…” I babbled, wobbling back against the console table.

“You couldn’t hear her?” Eric asked curiously.

“Her thoughts!” I whined breathlessly, feeling tired just from talking. “I need to sit down…”

Eric reached for me and led me to the nearest armchair, watching quietly as I lay my head back and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and tried to will the headache away – when I opened them again, Eric had squatted in front of my chair, and he was peering up at me curiously, with his crystal clear blue eyes, in that immobile way of his - his mysteriously long hair cascaded in soft waves framing his handsome face beautifully. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through its softness, but found both my hands were heavier than usual.

“You could hear Ginger’s  _thoughts_?” he prodded patiently.

“Anyone’s thoughts…” I corrected him.

His eyebrows arched. “ _Anyone’s_?”

I could hear the shift in his cadence, something that indicated danger – so I quickly corrected  _myself_ . “ _Not_  yours…” I sighed. “I assume now it has to do with you not being human.”

Eric blinked in that mechanic way and he tilted his head to the side. “You can hear human thoughts?”

“Well… I couldn’t hear Ginger’s this morning. She’s human right?” I asked for confirmation – at this point, how could I be sure?

“She is.”

“Oh…”

“So you can hear thoughts…” Eric’s eyes dropped between us, he seemed to be mulling something in his head. “Interesting, that is not something inherent to your kind.”

“Thank God, it isn’t…” I chuckled unknowingly.

Eric watched me curiously for another moment. “So, here you are… sooner than I had planned.”

“Then why did you bring me here?” I asked with a twinge of annoyance.

“Because I felt your despair and I came to find you collapsed next to your car,” he explained simply.

“You…  _felt_  my despair?” I batted my eyes repeatedly, trying to grasp that concept. “Can you do that?”

“I can do it because I’ve given you my blood,” he clarified patiently.

Like Mina and Lucy…

“Like Dracula…” I whispered in awe.

Eric chuckled, rolling his eyes with derision. “Not quite…” he stood gracefully, in fact, I had been impressed he was able to squat for that long without looking tired or uncomfortable. But now I was forced to crane my neck, and it was certainly uncomfortable for me, so I was thankful when he moved to sit on the ottoman across from me. “Dracula was written by a human man who read books on folklore and chose his favorites.”

“So are they all lies?” I asked.

“There’s a little truth in every lie, Miss Stackhouse…” he smiled mysteriously.

“So are there really vampires and are  _you_  one?” I asked.

“I am definitely what your culture has defined as  _vampire,_  although there wasn’t a word for it back when I was made.”

I blinked repeatedly. “When you were  _made_?”

“Vampires aren’t born, we are  _made_ , or  _turned_.”

“From a bite? Like zombies?”

“Not like zombies,” he chuckled again. “Your  _Dracula_ ’s lies had a little bit of truth in there.”

“So, you give them your blood to make them like you?”

“Yes.”

“You said there wasn’t a word for it back when you were made…” I frowned. “When  _were_  you made?”

“I was made vampire in 930 AD, making me around 1049 years old today.”

I only gaped at him for a moment – the idea of someone being  _alive_  that long was impossible to me.

“You’re making fun of me…” I blurted.

“I am not…” Eric shook his head. “But that you think I am shows you how extremely easy it can be to convince humans that my existence is in fact absurd… which has been for centuries our preference.”

“It isn’t anymore?” I asked, confused.

“It won’t be for much longer…” his eyes dropped somewhere between us. “We have been preparing for a change for a few years now…”

“A… change…?” I swallowed.

“It will soon come a time when our existence won’t be a secret to you anymore.”

“Oh…” for some reason that unsettled me. “Are you going to turn everyone into vampires?’

Eric laughed at my foolishness, shaking his head. “And deplete the earth of our food?”

“Food…? You mean blood? Is that part true? Do you feed on blood?”

“Exclusively.”

I reached up to palm my neck reflexively. “Have you ever fed on me?”

Eric’s eyes dropped to my throat as well and he shook his head. “Sadly no…” he said with regret.

“So… you are going to… tell everyone you exist?”

“Sometime in the future.”

“How many vampires are there?”

“Many.”

“But not too many otherwise how would you hide in plain sight?”

“Indeed.”

“Your disease…?”

“A cover up, of course. We can’t be out in the sun.”

 “If I were to open those curtains right now…?”

“I’d burn, severely.”

“Would you die?”

“I would be very weakened, but it would take more than a few hours for me to die. If you were to open those curtains, I would simply flee the room.”

“I wouldn’t do that…” I said quickly.

“I know…” he smiled.

We were firing rapidly at each other and I was surprised by how open he was about everything. I thought of something else I’d seen and I frowned.

“Those men digging in the woods… what they dug up… was it one of you?”

“Yes,” his eyes darkened, his smile dissolved.

“But it died immediately… I… the smell… they died, I am sure they did…”

“I am very old and therefore I am stronger. Younger vampires are more vulnerable,” Eric’s eyes dropped again. “Liam was merely 50 years old, and a  fool.”

“A fool who you saw fit to avenge anyhow…” I noted, his eyes met mine again. “I saw the Missing Persons Reports.”

Eric smiled unabashedly. “Yes… they will remain missing…”

“What did you do to them?” I asked feeling a knot in my throat.

“You don’t want to know.”

I swallowed. “You’re probably right.” I blinked repeatedly, thinking more about my experience that Monday. “They weren’t human either… were they? They felt different to me… their thoughts were different.”

Eric cocked his head to the side curiously before he replied. “They were werewolves.”

“ _What_?” I yelped.

“If you can believe in vampires, certainly you can believe in werewolves?”

“No, I cannot!” I gaped at him. “ _Werewolves_?”

“Yes.”

“What else is real?”

“You are….”  He batted his eyes repeatedly, they twinkled with mirth.

“I’m human.”

“Mostly,” he conceded.

“What do you mean  _mostly_?”

“When I met you I knew you were something other than human…” he began, staring through me almost. “Your scent Sookie… ah your scent… if you knew how badly I want to sink my fangs into you every time you’re near…” his eyes glazed over and darkened.

“Don’t…” I said tremulously, trying to sink further into the armchair.

His eyes cleared up immediately, and he stared straight into mine. “I won’t, Sookie. Unless you offer yourself to me – I promise.”

I blinked back at him, my heart still irreversibly pulsing in my ears. “Okay…”

“But the fact remains that you smell… like the most appetizing dish to one of my kind…” he continued gently. “You don’t smell like most humans.”

“Oh…” I frowned.

“So, I had a suspicion… you could be one of the  _fae_ , their kind was once numerous  and powerful, but they dwindled to the point we suspect not many exist anymore, and if they do, they hide even better than we do.”

“The  _fae_?” I frowned.

“They’re what humans call  _fairy_.”

I laughed through my nose, unable to help myself. “Fairy? You’re telling me you think I’m a fucking fairy?”

“Part fairy…” Eric smiled. “But no fairy I have ever met or heard about has the ability to read minds, Sookie. Only demons do.”

“Demons?” I gasped. “You mean like Lucifer?”

“No…” he shook his head slowly. “Even  _vampires_  were once called demons because that is how humans deem anything  _supernatural_ …” he paused. “The demons I speak of are supernatural creatures, but not like the ones you’re thinking of. They’re guardians of portals to other realms – presumably realms where every living creature in this planet came from, including humans.”

“What do you mean?” I narrowed my eyes.

“I mean there’s a theory we have all come through one of these portals at some point in history.”

“That’s crazy.”

“It’s only a theory.”

“Tell me more about these… demons…” I asked him, thinking of my encounter with the strange creature by my car. “What do they look like?”

“They can look like anything they want – take any form they wish – we don’t know what is their original form because it is widely believed they take form of whatever they need in order to communicate when they want to.”

“So… if  I were to meet one of them, they’d look like us?”

“Yes.”

“I think I met one last night…”

Eric became serious, watching me intently. “Why do you think that?”

“When you found me… he had probably just left… after giving me some cryptic message about how my…  _telepathy_  was his fault and he was sorry he had given it to me… because it had led me to  _you_ … then he said he would make it go away…” I shuddered, remembering. “He touched my forehead, and when he pulled away I just felt awful, and I fainted.”

Eric grew very, very still, and I was silent because I didn’t want to interrupt him – when he finally moved again, several minutes had passed, and when he met my eyes again, his were darker.

“A part-fairy with a demon gift… she meets a vampire and the gift is taken away…” he shook his head. “Sookie I didn’t give you my blood when I brought you here this time because I didn’t want it to affect your feelings.”

“My feelings?”

“Tell me of the dreams you’ve been having of me,” he asked me bluntly, and completely serious.

I flushed deeply and looked away, unable to speak. I could see him in my peripheral, sitting still.

“That’s what I thought…” he said quietly. “I will do it again if I have to… if you get weaker than you already are… if there’s no improvement, and if you give me your permission, I will give you more of my blood to heal you.”

I nodded slowly still not looking at him. “Did you give your blood to Willa Burrell?”

“Yes.”

Curiosity made me finally meet his eyes. “What happened to her in those woods? Werewolves?”

Eric shook his head. “Liam.”

“The vampire?” I blinked.

“Yes…”

“Did he attack her? Did he drink from her?”

“Yes.”

“You stopped him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I frowned curiously. “Isn’t that what you do, feed on people?”

“Yes, but as I said, times have changed, and our methods must change if we are to come out to humans in a few years.”

“So no more feeding on the unwilling?” I arched an eyebrow dubiously.

“What makes you think they are always unwilling?”

I thought of Ginger, and the marks on her wrist. “Is Ginger your willing donor?”

“She is a willing donor, but I don’t drink from her anymore,” he said simply.

I frowned. “Whose donor is she then?” I thought of my last visit during the day, with all the curtains in place. “Do other vampires live here?” I asked in a whisper, afraid they could hear me right now.

“Not at the moment… I wouldn’t bring you here if there were others…” he assured me. “But I have the occasional visitor.”

“Like Liam.”

“Like Liam.”

I sighed. “This is all very new and confusing.”

“You should rest,” he said standing up. “I can feel your exhaustion, you should return to bed.” He offered me his hand.

I shook my head. “I need to go back to my house, Amelia…”

“I’ve taken care of your friend Amelia already… she thinks you’re enjoying some private time with a handsome man you met at the party…” he smiled meaningfully.

I swallowed. “Did you make Amelia forget she met you when you brought me over last time?”

“Yes, we call it glamouring.”

“Hypnosis?”

“Something like that…” he flexed his hand at me again. “Come… you need your rest…”

I took his hand, actually taking comfort in the cool feel of his skin, realizing I was slightly feverish. He walked me to the bed and I slipped under the covers – the feeling of the soft mattress and pillow at my back immediately making me feel sleepier – my eyes fluttered.

“Sleep my sweet girl…” Eric whispered, brushing his fingers through my hair as I slipped into unconsciousness one more time.

Hours passed and my dreams weren’t pleasant, nor was Eric in them. I woke up bathed in sweat again and as I sat up bolt upright I was facing the window, with the curtains pulled back – it was night already. I sighed tiredly, but relieved I was awake from whatever horrible nightmare I’d been having.

I pulled the covers away and scooted out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom, where my reflection in the mirror was now positively ghastly. I shrugged out of the now heavy house coat and stepped into the bath tub for a shower.

I made it back into the bedroom minutes later with another of Ginger’s fluffy towels wrapped around me. I tried to make it back to the bed, but I collapsed before I could. Everything was hazy after that – I floated in and out of consciousness. I heard Ginger’s voice, and Eric’s, but I could never understand them, and I could never communicate back with them.

Eventually I came to, to stare at the canopy above my head. I didn’t move or try to speak – I simply stared and waited to be sure I was really still conscious.

“There she is…” said a voice I didn’t recognize.

I rolled my head to the side, to find an old woman’s face level with my eyes. I frowned. Either she was on her knees, or she was very, very short.

“Who are you?” I blurted.

“You can call me Dr. Ludwig, child. How do you feel?”

“Awake…”

“Good. That’s a start. You don’t know what’s happening to you child, so I’m going to tell you.” She waited for me to give her some acknowledgement, so I nodded my head. “You are a human-fairy hybrid, it means you’re both human and supernatural. Before you were born, something was done to your blood, a demon shared his blood with your ancestors more likely, it was what enabled you to grow into a telepath. However, this demon regretted his gift for whatever reason, and he removed it. The  _fae_  part of you can take it well, your human side  _can’t…_  your blood stream is compromised, like someone set fire inside your vessels… you’re dying, Miss Stackhouse.”

“What the hell kind of doctor are you?” I frowned at her.

“The healing kind…” she deadpanned. “Did you understand what I told you, Miss Stackhouse?”

“Yes, I’m dying.”

“You sound very blasé about that!” she observed, tilting her head to the side.

“Give me a minute, I’m not fully awake yet.”

The woman laughed – her laugh was like  a bark. She shook her head and stepped away from the bed. Suddenly Eric was sitting on the mattress next to me, watching me with concern.

“You know what I’m going to ask you,” he said.

“Do I?” I frowned.

“We have two options, Sookie…  _If_  a demon gave his blood to your ancestors, your living grandmother might know something about it. You either allow me to bring her to you, so she can give us the name of the demon, or you allow me to give you my blood again.”

I frowned at him. “I don’t like either of those options.”

“Your other option is dying.”

I blinked. “That sounds terrible.”

Eric frowned at me, reaching with his cool hand he cupped my face, I sighed with relief, I was burning inside.

“That feels good…” I whispered.

Eric lowered his hand down my throat and over my collarbone gently.  He had put me in one of his shirts – it smelled like him and it was silky soft, coupled with the cold feel of his skin upon my skin, I felt almost entirely refreshed. I sighed and sunk deeper against the pillow – if I were to die like this, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Sookie…”

“Mmmm…?”

“You need to tell me what you want.”

I forced my eyes fully opened and stared at him, he looked – lost. “You don’t sound like you ask that question very often…”

“I don’t. Normally I just do what I think is best.”

“Why aren’t you doing it right now?”

“Because I wish to earn your favor,” he said sincerely.

“Oh…” I swallowed – he had moved his hand away, and I missed the relief he’d brought upon my skin. “So I’ll let you drink from me?”

His eyes darkened. “I want much more than your blood, Sookie.”

His voice tugged at the darkest places in me, and feverish and weak as I was, I could still feel liquid heat pooling in dark places.

“Give me your blood…” I told him.

Eric looked at me uncertainly, he looked almost pained. “Are you sure?”

“I will not make my Gran come here and see me like this. Give me your blood… please…”

Resigned, he sat up straight and tugged the cuff of his sleeve back – I had no idea where the little doctor had disappeared to, but I asked no questions. I gasped when he dropped his fangs, and even in the dim light, they were magnificent – I couldn’t take my eyes off of them as he bit into his wrist, creating two punctures from which his dark, rich blood poured freely.

The scent of his blood filled the room and my nostrils flared and I inhaled, my chest heaved. I  _knew_  that scent – he smelled familiar. He gently lowered his wrist above my mouth and I parted my lips, eager for the little drops. The moment his blood hit my tongue I felt alive – it was the strangest thing, that it felt so natural, that I actually enjoyed it! I grabbed his wrist and wrapped my lips around the tiny punctures so I could draw directly from him. I felt its healing force spreading through my body like a wave.

Eric was watching me with hunger in his now dark blue eyes, he panted from his fanged mouth, and then he started to purr with contentment. Finally, when he’d decided I’d had enough, he gently pried my fingers from around his wrist and pulled back.

I dropped my head back on the pillow and tried to settle down. I felt like I could spring from the bed and start jumping around the room – it felt amazing!

“This is better than the shit they gave me in college…” I blurted out dizzily.

Eric chuckled. “I know…” he rolled the cuff of his sleeve back down.

I looked up at him, seeing him way better now, even in the dark, thanks to his blood. His fangs were still visible and I scrambled onto my knees next to him and I reached out like a curious, foolish child to touch them. Eric hissed but didn’t recoil – I wasn’t aware of what I was doing at the time, I was just being curious and  _high_ , but he didn’t stop me. He started purring again, with his eyes drooping. I watched him in fascination, and unable to control myself, I pulled my fingers away, and pressed my mouth to his instead.

I didn’t care that it was his blood in me, making me bold – I knew it wasn’t the only reason I was kissing him. Eric didn’t pull away,  though he didn’t immediately respond. Only when he felt my persistence did he move, curling his fingers into my hair and drawing me closer, taking over the kiss completely as I wound arms around his neck, and he banded an arm around my waist, dragging me onto his lap.

We kissed avidly, hungrily, sloppily, desperately. It wasn’t uncomfortable to kiss his fanged mouth – he knew just how to move so he wouldn’t hurt me. The more I kissed him, the more I wanted to kiss him. His tongue in my mouth seemed to touch all of the right places somewhere else and soon I was grinding into his lap wantonly, making sounds I didn’t recognize, and dragging sounds from him that reverberated through my body and made more desperate for him to fuck me than I had ever been either awake or dreaming.

I was suddenly on my back on the mattress with a massive, growling vampire on top of me, but, instead of moving forward, he seemed to me merely restraining  _me_. His hands gripped my arms tightly and pressed them into the mattress so I couldn’t reach up to touch him and his knees were pushing my thighs together, so I was practically immobilized.

I gasped, staring at him, confused and upset. “What?” I blurted breathlessly.

“As tempting as you are, Miss Stackhouse, we have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re high.”

“Well… that’s normally the only way I can have sex, Mr. Northman…”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Your generation is truly fond of inebriation. There’s a certain aspect of it I can relate to. But I’m trying to earn your favor.”

“You have it…”

“Maybe…” he conceded. “We’ll have to find out later…”

He pulled away from me entirely and the absence of his weight made me bounce on the mattress and I giggled foolishly. I had to admit I  _was_  high. I sat up and I rolled off the bed to stand on my own two feet and I took a moment to test the waters.

“How do you feel?” Eric asked me, standing across the room.

“Perfect…”

“Good.”

I looked at him. “Now what?”

“Now you must talk to your grandmother. We don’t know what it means to you Sookie, that you’ve had something that was part of you literally ripped away.” He looked serious and concerned. “You must talk to her.”

I nodded slowly, the seriousness of the situation hitting me fully for the first time. I had been too sick earlier to realize it.

“I will talk to her… but what if she doesn’t know anything at all? What if it was before her time?”

“We’ll have to find other ways…” the possibility seemed to displease him.

“What if she thinks I’m crazy?” I arched an eyebrow.

“She won’t.”

That night I drove back to the townhouse, and Amelia didn’t ask me anything. It was the strangest thing to be unable to hear her thoughts completely – it was strange how in less than a decade I’d become accustomed to my strange condition – now that it was gone, I felt like I wasn’t myself anymore. It was an uncomfortable feeling. I didn’t know what would happen to me, and alone in my bed, I was suddenly very afraid of the future.

 


	5. Chapter 5

When I parked outside my grandmother’s house  on November 2, 1979, I knew straight away something wasn’t right. I could see all the lights in the house were on, in broad daylight – it wasn’t like Gran to be this wasteful.

I raced inside the house with my heart thumping and I came to an immediate halt in the kitchen upon finding my grandmother’s dead body on floor. Her eyes were open and lifeless, staring into nothing, she’d been ready for bed when it happened, she was wearing her nightgown and fluffy slippers. There was no blood but for a thin, almost black trickle down the corner of her mouth, there were dark blotches on her skin in strange patterns.

I stared for a moment disbelievingly, until I dropped to my knees and started to shake her, calling to her uselessly.  _ Gran, wake up! Gran please, wake up! _ _ Gran no! No, please wake up!  _ She felt cold and stiff and wrong and then I was sobbing as a hole opened into my chest ready to swallow my heart.

I don’t know how long it took me to get over my hysterics, but I finally managed to get to the phone and call the police. What happened in the next few hours is today just a jumbled, hazy mess of mostly visual memories. My grandmother’s kitchen full of policemen and paramedics, an ambulance and patrol cars on her driveway. I remember seeing my brother’s truck pulling up way back – I watched him from my seat on the porch step – I had a blanket wrapped around me.

Hours later Amelia arrived and gave me something to help me sleep. I remember opening my eyes briefly during in the middle of the night and looking at the window, thinking I was hallucinating Eric outside watching me. In the morning I knew I hadn’t hallucinated him -  he’d tied the scarf he’d been wearing around his neck to a branch outside my window. I watched it swaying in the wind like a black flag – his condolences once again.

My brother came in saying the doctors were baffled. They claimed it had been like Gran’s blood had simply boiled inside her and they estimated she had been dead for two days when I found her. I couldn’t react to anything outwardly, but inside, I was screaming. It had been that man, that demon or whatever the hell he was. She had died the moment the demon removed his gift from me – I didn’t know why. But I’d been told it was like my veins were on fire – it was the only explanation.

There was another wake to arrange, another funeral – and I couldn’t deal with any of it. Neighbors came and went, trying to console us – I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t even have the strength to be of any consolation to Jason – and he mostly watched me with concern.

On my second night in Gran’s house, I heard a knock on the window behind my back, I rolled over to see Eric  _ floating _  out there, a concerned expression in his eyes. Any other time I would have been amazed he could fly. As it was, I rolled off the bed and padded over to the window, pulling it open.

“What do you want?” I asked him, listlessly.

“You’re in pain…” he said.

“So what?”

“I am sorry about your grandmother…”

“Me too.”

“Invite me in.”

“Why?”

“That’s the only way I can come inside,” he explained softly.

I blinked my eyes at him and shook my head. “Go away, Eric… I don’t want to see you anymore.”

I closed the window and pulled the curtains over it and marched back to my bed and curled on my side with my back to him. He never knocked again. In the morning, his scarf was still dangling from the same branch, floating in the breeze.

Unthinkingly I threw the window open and bent over the windowsill so I could undo the knot and rip it out of there. My first thought had been to throw it away, but I couldn’t do it. The moment I had it in my hands, I could smell him in  the dark charcoal fabric. I brought it to my nose and inhaled it. I kept it under my pillow – but I wouldn’t see Eric again for weeks.

I couldn’t go back to the city. I resigned from the  _ Chronicle _ . I couldn’t focus on anything but the fact I’d somehow killed my grandmother – through my association with a vampire… I felt hollow inside.

 

Amelia eventually had to go back, but I stayed in Gran’s house, Jason visited me on the weekends. November was gone before I knew it and December came, colder than ever. I never went very far from Gran’s house, and Jason and Amelia both worried about me.

Christmas came, and Jason wanted to introduce me to his girlfriend, so I agreed to go the party her family was throwing on December 25 th . I was obviously not the life of the party. But I tried, for Jason.

Before New Year’s Eve I decided to go back home, and Amelia was happy to see me.

I hadn’t dreamt of Eric that whole time, my hatred of him seemed to have been enough to fend off his influence – but I knew exactly when the effects of the blood he gave me wore off  completely – it was on December 27 th  – when the fever started again.

I tried to ignore it at first, but then, getting out of bed became harder. January 1980 came and I could no longer hide from Amelia there was something wrong with me. I claimed I just had a bad cold – that could at least explain my fever. But it was difficult to convince Amelia she could go to work and I would be fine by myself. I was in bed most of the time, secretly clutching Eric’s scarf underneath my pillow.

It was on January 16 th  I finally saw him again. At some point in the night, I don’t know how early or how late, I rolled over in bed to face the door and there he was, standing in the doorway, I could see only Amelia’s feet behind him, since most of him occupied the space of the door.

I was confused at the time – not understanding how he could be there if I hadn’t invited him in, but later it would become clear Amelia had to have issued an invitation back in October, when he brought me home the first time, and because he glamoured her into forgetting he was ever there, it wouldn’t occur to her to retrieve the invitation – not that I knew it was something you could do at that time.

He walked into my room, coming to stand next to my bed. He looked down at me with a cryptic frown. “Sookie, I am taking you home with me…”

I just nodded, wrapping my fingers tighter around his scarf underneath my pillow. He scooped me up in his arms, and I felt as though I could easily slip through them as though I was turning into liquid, his eyes dropped briefly to his scarf, which I held feebly against my chest as he walked me out of the room, but he made no comment, nor could I interpret the expression on his face.

“What about Amelia…?” I asked as he simply walked us out of the house – I was still in my cotton pajamas, but too tired to care if anyone saw me.

“She won’t even know you’re gone,” he assured me. “Rest, little one…” he cupped my face, pressing it closer into his chest.

I obeyed, closing my eyes, and next I felt such a cold blast of air around me I burrowed myself into him, afraid and confused. We were flying, but I would only hear about it much later.

Doctor Ludwig was back in my bedroom in the Landry House – she gave me something to drink that tasted awful and it had a nearly leathery texture in my mouth. But the result was immediate, I felt better and then she left me alone to rest.

I floated in and out of consciousness again – a state I was getting used to. At one point I thought, as I looked in the direction of the window at the foot of my bed, that I’d seen a small, dainty young female, with long, pale, blonde hair and a small, rose-petal mouth, looking almost like a porcelain doll.

She stood there, watching me, with that strange stillness I had associated with Eric. I remember thinking she looked like Eric and vaguely wondered if she was his sister – but I didn’t recognize the similarity for what it was – she reminded me of him because she was  _ like _  him. She was no hallucination, but at the time, even as I felt better, I couldn’t be sure – and I wouldn’t meet her again for a while.

I opened my eyes a few hours later and only then I fully comprehended where I was and what had happened. I blinked at the dark room and then I sat up abruptly facing the windows. The faint blue light that seeped into the room came from a gap between the heavy blackout curtains. I was staring at the spot where the blonde woman had stood and I batted my eyes repeatedly, trying to decide whether I’d imagined her or not.

Feeling strangely better than I had in days, I pulled the covers off of me and stood on my bare feet against the wooden floor – it felt pleasantly cool. I padded over to the window and parted the curtains to peer outside.

The new moon was barely visible against the changing backdrop of the sky – it had already progressed far into its descent and I knew it wasn’t long before dawn. Something caught my eye from my peripheral and I turned to see a long, moving shadow sliding on the pavement leading up towards the house – but whoever was casting that shadow was concealed by the trees. I waited with bated breath to see who it was.

It was Eric – I recognized him, of course, not many people were that tall, or moved like him. He walked at a leisure pace, his coat billowing in the wind. I frowned curiously as I watched him.

I pulled away from the window and walked round staring at the door. I hesitated for only a moment before striding towards it to test the handle. The door was unlocked and my heart thumped as I pulled at it and it opened with a creak. I peered out into the dimly lit hallway, poking my head through the door. I saw several closed doors and many wall-mounted little lamps.

 I stepped outside on the carpeted floor and looked around me to try and orient myself. Deciding which direction I assumed the grand staircase to be I started walking – the coward in me started glancing at each door as I walked past them, pondering again whether I’d actually seen a strange woman in my bedroom, pondering if Eric was currently harboring others like him behind those doors.

I reached the top of the second landing, and inched slowly towards the angel figurehead, embedded into the wall - it looked as though erupting from it, and I glanced sideways in the direction of the stairs. Just as I walked from behind a large plant I saw him ascending the steps, his eyes already on me, as though he’d known I was going to be there – and he probably did.

I stopped at the top of the stairs watching him – his cheeks looked slightly flushed, his eyes the darkest blue. I somehow knew those were signs he’d fed. He studied me silently as well, and there was something strangely familiar about his stillness to me then. His eyes were like pools of quiet and deep, and I knew he posed no threat to me, even though everything about him told me otherwise.

“You’re no longer angry with me…” he stated.

I shook my head - my heart thumped just  a bit harder at the sound of his voice. I leapt forward unthinkingly, winding my arms around his neck and burying my face into his hair. I shivered instantly when he responded by pulling me flush against him, arms banding around me tightly, my feet dangled inches above the steps as he held me.

Everything about him was familiar now, his scent, his strength, the cool touch of him that felt like a balm against my heated skin even through fabric. I closed my eyes tightly and revelled in the comfort all of him brought me. I had spent so many weeks hating him and hating myself, blaming us both for everything it was perhaps natural that he was the only one that could make me feel right again. What I was, what he was, we were both something other than human, and that was the most in common I had ever had with anyone.

I felt his cool lips against my neck and I reacted instantly by tightening my arms around his shoulders and pulling my legs up to clamp my thighs around his hips. I pushed myself higher, climbing, and kissed him.  Eric’s fingers delved into my hair and his tongue swept past my lips, brushing against my own, dragging a pitiful moan from my chest and giving me a faint feeling that nearly had me slipping off of him entirely. He held me as my legs dropped weakly and he stared into my eyes with his now stormy ones, his fangs had dropped and I stared at them with fascination, reaching up to touch them curiously.

The world moved around me, under me,  I felt dizzy as everything blurred past me. I was suddenly back on my bed, sinking deeply into the soft mattress with a vampire on top of me, his eyes were the first thing that came back into focus, they were dark and full of his desire and he opened his mouth helpfully as I reached to touch his fangs again. They were beautiful, if deadly, or perhaps I was conditioned to seeing them as such.

Eric purred, his eyes rolling back into his head, I withdrew my fingers and his eyes returned to mine, a bit more focused, but still dark.

“You’re not afraid,” he stated.

“Should I be?” I asked, my heart thumping.

His eyes drooped instantly as they roamed upon my face – he shook his head slightly. “No Sookie, never…” He kissed me again and I gladly closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of him upon me, covering me, shielding me and kissing me.

I could barely breathe when he pulled away, brushing his kisses down my cheeks and jaw - my fingers dug into his hair while I tried to catch my breath. He started kissing and licking at the junction of my neck and shoulder – my breath hitched slightly as I pondered whether he’d bite me – but before I could even begin to ask him, he dipped his fingers past the waistband of my drawstring pants. He found warmth and wetness there and he purred against my throat before claiming my lips once more. I arched into him, spreading my thighs wantonly, wrapping my arms around him at the same time I tried tugging at his coat, wanting to feel him too.

“Eric…” I breathed as he curled his fingers inside me. “I need you…” I pleaded with him, tugging at his unyielding coat.

“I needed you first…” he  replied while kissing me feverishly, his fingers working me into madness.

I gasped and arched into the bed, feeling my climax with my whole body - the canopy went out of focus and I closed my eyes momentarily, smiling foolishly as I melted back into the mattress. Eric withdrew his fingers from me and kissed my lips once – and then I couldn’t feel the weight of him anywhere. I opened my eyes lazily to see him kneeling, straddling me as he tossed his coat to the side. I trailed my eyes over his chest, and I sat up, faster than I believed I could, given what he’d just done to me. I touched his sides, my eyes following the sculpted lines of his stomach.

“You’re beautiful…” I told him.

Eric took my hands in his and I lifted my eyes to him curiously. He watched me with those eyes full of desire, his tousled hair framing his beautiful face.

“We’re all dark and beautiful, Sookie – it’s what makes us dangerous…” he told me.

“Are you trying to scare me?” I tilted my head to the side.

He smirked down at me, and his eyes danced, he was pleased with me. “You’re just as dangerous as I am, little fairy… your demon gift forced you into hiding… or you would have known what men of any kind would do for you…” he caressed my jaw with the back of his fingers.

“What would you do for me, Eric?” I kneeled up onto the bed, grabbing onto the waistband of his slacks.

His eyes drooped as we were face to face and he inhaled me, he seemed to savor the moment, and then he wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me into a fervent, hungry kiss, claiming my mouth and stealing my breath, sending shivers all over my body, all over again.

He pushed me back onto the mattress and kissed me while ridding me of my clothes – they were scraps in his hands and then they were no more. I felt his skin upon mine, cool and smooth and hard and I wrapped myself around him, clinging to him with every ounce of energy I had while he taught me how to kiss with a thousand years worth of practice. Our hands travelled every plane and curve of each other’s bodies, our mouths were soon exploring as well, and I felt a different kind of inebriation. 

It didn’t come from alcohol, or drugs, it came from him, from him and his clever mouth, his deft hands, his tongue, his teeth, his fangs - which he never used to pierce me, but to scrape and tease and make me shiver and squirm wildly.

He cupped my breasts in his large hands and caressed them, felt them, nuzzled them, his mouth kissed them, and nipped them and the moment he plucked a nipple into his mouth and laved at it with his clever tongue, was when I begged for him to fuck me.

I saw stars, and we moaned together, my back arched, and he braced his hands under my shoulders. He started to move in me and my eyes opened wider and wider and my breath came out of me in little bursts. His eyes seized mine and he demanded I kept my own opened as he thrust into me over and over, filling me in ways I didn’t know were possible, hitting places I didn’t know existed and at once I couldn’t bear it anymore and I closed my eyes and threw my head back, my mouth open in a silent scream.

I felt intoxicated, delirious, and for the first time from the effects of someone’s attentions alone. And as I trembled and shivered he held me, kissed me places, and murmured words of praise until I had calmed down enough and then he started again, shifting me, moving me into other positions I didn’t know of and taking me to heights unimagined again and again, and each time I fell off that cliff I felt renewed.

I knew the sun had long risen by the time he rolled us over one last time so I could lay sprawled on top of him, breathless, my cheek against his unbeating heart, his fingers brushing softly against the damp skin of my lower back, his other hand bunching in my hair, keeping me close.

My eyes fluttered closed as I heard the birds chirping outside. One large hand cupped my bare shoulder as I fell asleep. I had never felt so much, in such a short time, and it had been even better than my dreams. I felt healed most of all – cared for, cherished – it was a strange feeling. One I knew I could happily grow addicted to.

 

I woke up sometime during the next day, alone in the large bed that still smelled of sex and of him. I moved, feeling my sore muscles and a sharp but beloved ache down between my thighs. I lifted my right arm, confused, to find Eric’s charcoal scarf tied to my wrist – I smiled, knowing he’d probably found it, tucked underneath my pillow or maybe it’d ended up somewhere during our restless night. I sighed, content, remembering my last few waking hours with fondness.

I sat up and gazed at the blackout curtains, tightly pulled over the window so not a sliver of  sunlight breached inside.  I scooted out of bed, feeling my legs firmly beneath me for the first time that year. I sprung over to the curtains and peeled them open, just so I could feel the sun against my face, even though it was quite a cold, bleak morning.

Ginger appeared almost immediately and she drew me a bath and showed me some clothes that had been brought for me. They already smelled of someone and I frowned, a tug of jealousy pinching me from the inside – again the fleeting image of the dainty blonde burned in my mind. I asked Ginger who else was in the house but she only looked at me uncomfortably before denying there was anyone but herself and Eric. Not for the first time since the night of Halloween I felt a strange, unexpected sadness at being unable to hear someone’s thoughts.

I bathed and changed into a woolen white dress that felt and looked like a warm, fuzzy blanket. I ate, voraciously, for the first time in days and Ginger told me I could roam around the house and garden if I so wished, but that I shouldn’t venture far.

I took my time giving myself the tour of the mansion, finding some doors opened, some locked, and all curtains in place. After I’d made my way through all of the three floors, I finally ventured outside, not minding the cold. It rarely ever snowed in the region, but there was an uneven white sheet on the ground that morning. I walked all the way down to the closed gate and grabbed at the iron bars, peering outside into the deserted street and into the edge of the woods. I squinted my eyes against the light as I detected a familiar object propped against a tree – a shovel, caked in dirt. I gazed into the forest, wondering whether there were other vampires buried in the ground right now. Would they have been inside had I not been there?

I walked back to the house, feeling suddenly unsafe, and I decided to peek into Eric’s library – it had been the first room I’d seen in the Landry house, and it was strange to step inside it again after so much had happened.

I walked over to the large mahogany desk and frowned at the opened book  resting in the middle of it . I tilted my head to see a strange illustration of a tall, beautiful woman with wheat-colored hair and bright green eyes  and butterfly wings – she looked to be dancing – the description said  _ woodland fairy. _  There were also other books sprawled about, in several different languages – some languages I recognized vaguely and others I didn’t, at all. A few of those books carried illustrations that clearly painted a pattern of what Eric had been reading about. Not all pictures were flattering – some  _ fairies _  looked quite frightening and grotesque. I dropped to the chair with a frown and picked the first volume I’d seen, since it was written in English.

I read about pagan rituals and baby snatching and forbidden lands and impish, sharp toothed creatures full of malice fettered to old trees, or ethereal, ghostly ones fettered to bodies of water. I moved to the next volume I found in English and more, unrelated drivel spilled out of its pages. None of that could be true – it all was all too fantastical. I didn’t care I was a guest in a vampire’s house, one who’d rescued me from  _ werewolves _ , while I could easily accept that now, I couldn’t possibly accept I had anything to do with the mythical creatures loosely described in those pages.

At some point during my perusal of the few books I could read, Ginger knocked, bringing me food and drinks. I thanked her and I ate as much as I could before going back to my reading. I’d had the blackout curtains tightly closed behind me so I never noticed nightfall.

“I can feel your frustration,” his voice startled me.

I looked up to see Eric walking into the room silently – he wore a velvety-looking shirt and simple black slacks, he was barefoot – his long hair had been pulled into an intricate braid and I mused whether he only ever cut it when he had to deal with other humans.

“Have you ever met a real fairy, Eric?” I asked him as I closed the book I’d been reading with a huff.

“Yes… even though a sighting of them was already very rare back when I was made…” he walked to stand close to the desk, forcing me to crane my neck up.

“What can you tell me about them?”

His eyes flickered. “They’re delicious…”

I blinked. “Ah…”

“Were you a full fairy, Sookie, you might not have survived our first encounter…” he admitted, pulling away from the desk to take a seat on one of the plush armchairs.

I stood from the desk, watching him curiously. “Why?”

“Because fairy blood is like a drug a vampire couldn’t get enough of…” he said honestly.

“Have you ever… killed one?” I asked as I edged closer to him.

“Yes…” he admitted. “When they couldn’t defend themselves.”

“But they  _ can _  defend themselves?”

“In varied ways, yes. There are many types of fairies, some have talon-like nails that can cut pretty deep.” I shuddered at the thought, he continued. “I suspect you’re a Sky-Fae… legend says they would have been more likely to mate with humans.”

“Sky-Fae?” I frowned.

“They’d look more like what your human literature would define as  _ elves _  physically. The Sky-Fae are associated with the sun and can reportedly manipulate energy.”

“I didn’t read anything about that…” I frowned.

“You wouldn’t have read about them in your language, no… A lot about fairies has been diluted and romanticized over the years and modern books will tell you nothing truly useful.”

“Have you ever met one of those?” I asked curiously, coming to take a seat on one of the chairs across from him.

“Yes.  _ Once _  – it was very brief, we agreed not to kill each other.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Do fairies disappearing completely have anything to do with you folk eating them all?” I asked bluntly.

Eric chuckled. “Not quite. Though it is quite difficult to resist draining one completely if you get the upper hand, they have excelled at  _ fleeing _  – their dwindling numbers are a mystery to us.”

“Do you have a theory?” I asked hopefully, pulling my knees against my chest.

“Did you read on that book how fairies are often associated with territory?”

“Yes but… there’s a lot in those books, most of it probably lies!”

“And what did I tell you about lies, Miss Stackhouse?” he asked me condescendingly.

I sighed. “A little bit of truth in every lie?”

“Yes.”

“Very well… what about your theory?”

“Humans weren’t as numerous as they are now – I believe the human race slowly forced the Fae to keep within whatever realm they originally came from.”

“Oh…”

“Not entirely of course. In some places it is still considered a dangerous offense to disturb fairy ground. But mostly I believe they have chosen to stay within their world.”

“What about me? Are there others like me?”

“Probably,” his eyes flickered curiously as they trailed them over me.

“But what does it even mean? We just  _ smell _  nicer?”

“I don’t know…” he confessed with a chuckle. “A lot of what I know about their kind, could be just as untruthful as human beliefs about what garlic and crucifixes can do to us.”

“What about Holy Water?” I questioned curiously.

“It’s just like the mirrors and photographs… a lie…” he smiled with amusement.

I nodded. “Why have you refrained from drinking from me Eric?” I cocked my head to the side. “You’ve had so many chances… last night… is it because you couldn’t make me forget about it and you’d have to kill me?”

“At first that would have been the reason, yes. It was very frustrating to realize I couldn’t glamour you…” he confessed with a smile.

“But  _ why  _ can’t you?” I asked, truly curious. “Is it because of the… fairy in me… or because I had a demon mind-reading gift…or…?” I suddenly straightened up, blinking my eyes as I was filled with dread at the thought that crossed my mind. “Could you… could you do it now that I’ve lost it?” I asked him.

While his eyes glinted curiously for a moment, he quickly dismissed it with a flick of his hand and shake of his head. “Doubtful…”

“Try it…” I gasped, shocked I would even suggest it.

Eric’s eyes returned to me, truly surprised. “Sookie…”

My heart was thumping inside my chest now, but at the same time I wanted to know. I sat up, straight, with my feet planted on the ground, my eyes on his. “Do it…”

Eric looked torn for a moment but he finally seemed to agree. His crystal clear eyes darkened and turned stormy and I felt a tug behind my navel as he seized my eyes in his. My breath failed me for a moment, but again, all I truly felt was a slight pressure – like I could feel what he was doing, but I couldn’t be drawn by it.

“Walk to me,” he ordered simply.

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. “No…” I opened them and breathed a sigh of relief. I was smiling when I looked up at him, Eric watched me with a cryptic expression, he sat still, his head poised and slanted as if he were still testing me.

“It doesn’t work…” I smiled as my heart hammered for a whole other reason.

I knew that if he had been able to do it, I could never trust him again – and I was relieved.

“You look very pleased…” he observed.

“Enormously…” I chuckled nodding. “But why didn’t you drink from me… yet…?” I asked again, curiously. “You could have, even before last night, if you decided the taste was worth it, and you could easily dispose me like you did those… werewolves…”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, Sookie,” Eric said seriously. “What I said to you back in November is still true – I wish to have your favor. I want you to want to be with me. I want to you to want to be mine.”

 “Be your what?” I snorted. “Girlfriend?”

He smiled back, sharing my amusement. “That is a very human concept… but no… that is not what you would be, though some of the perks are the same…”

“Perks?”

“Well the sex would be amazing,” he said candidly. “As you know…” his eyes dancing as he trailed them over me blatantly.

I flushed to the roots of my hair and looked away from him. “Ok… what are the  _ other _  perks…?”

“My protection. Others of my kind wouldn’t refrain from simply taking you and drinking from you at will. Let my friend Liam be an example to you of what many of my kind are like – not all of us, especially the young ones, are either willing or prepared to come out and attempt a peaceful coexistence with humans.”

“How do you intend to make people believe you  _ can _ ?” I narrowed my eyes curiously, being able to face him again now that the subject had gone into more political territory.

“The Japanese have been able to synthesize human blood… technically, we wouldn’t have to drink from humans to survive.”

“I cannot help but cling to the  _ technically _  part…” I smiled sweetly.

Eric smiled back. “Are you a carnivore, Sookie?”

I batted my eyes. “I do like my meat, what does that have to do with it?”

“Imagine if you had to go through life eating only salads.” I made a face. Eric chuckled. “It would be like eating salads only, for the rest of your life... And well… the rest of a vampire’s life is quite a long time.”

“So it’s a lie…” I surmised, feeling uncomfortable.

“It’s a  _ compromise _ . We can’t live off of synthetic blood alone, Sookie, there’s no pleasure in it. But it can help us mend fences. It’s become too difficult to hide with how many humans there are now and with technology advancing so quickly, in twenty years life in hiding will be nearly impossible.”

“Do we outnumber you?” I frowned curiously.

“Oh yes…”

“What if mankind decides you shouldn’t exist?” I pondered.

“We can fight back…”

“But you’d lose…”

“You underestimate us…” he told me.

I sighed. “So I’d have your protection from the  _ bad _  sort of vampire?”

Eric smiled. “ _ Bad _  vampires are just like  _ bad _  humans, Sookie, except we’re stronger in many ways.”

“So there’s no truth to the lie of vampires preying on the innocent?” I asked him dubiously.

“Oh yes, there is a lot of truth to that,” he answered honestly. “For much longer than even I have been around we  have been predators, unnatural beings in a world that does not welcome the otherness, not even within its own kind. We were a product of our nature but also of human nature and human civilizations… But the times are changing, and we must try to find a way to fit within it or we’ll die.”

I chewed on my bottom lip thoughtfully. “What else does it mean to be…  _ yours _ ?”

“You would only feed  _ me _ … any vampire who tried to feed from you would be punished.”

“By whom?”

“By me.”

“Are you some sort of vamp-cop?”

Eric chuckled. “I think the term we’re going with is  _ sheriff. _ ” My eyes widened, he continued. “I could give you my blood a third time… and you would be permanently bonded to me.”

“Permanently?” I asked. “Like what? Like we’d be married?”

“I think it would be vaguely equivalent to that.”

“ _ Why _  would you want that?” I shook my head.

“Because I’m obsessed with you…” he said sincerely, his eyes becoming darker again. “Because I haven’t felt for anyone, not even my progeny, as strongly as I feel about you…”

“Your progeny?”

“The vampire I made…”

“So you’re a father?”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Would you… would you want to turn me?”

His eyes flickered. “I would…”

“What if I don’t want to be turned?”

His eyes cleared up considerably. “I would endeavor to try to respect your decision.”

“Why would  _ I _  want any of that…?” I shrugged.

“Because you have feelings for me…” he said simply. “I know you’ve kept my scarf, I know also the effect my blood had on your feelings has waned… and you still wanted me.”

“You sound very certain of that.”

“I can still feel you.”

My eyes drooped suddenly, and I felt feverish again. “I’m tired… what did Dr. Ludwig give me?”

“Demon’s blood…”

Eric was squatting in front of me suddenly, and I’d never seen him move. I frowned.

“Why?”

“So your veins would stop burning…” he grasped my hand. “We’d hoped it would be enough.”

“Perhaps if I drink more of it?” I asked.

“Perhaps…” his eyes flickered. “I must tell you something important.”

“What?” I asked, shaking my head to clear it.

“I know the name of your demon…”

“You do? How?”

“After I went to your house, I caught a scent… I know him…. his name is Desmond Cataliades.”

“Did he kill my Gran?” I asked with building hatred for the name in my heart.

“Yes… not directly but after discussing with Dr. Ludwig I think it’s safe to say he knew what would happen to your grandmother when he removed his gift from you.”

“Why is Jason okay?”

“I don’t understand how Fae heritage works, but I have caught scent of your brother, he’s plainly human – there was no danger to him.”

I sighed with relief. “Thank God.”

“I believe it  _ is _  my fault Cataliades removed his gift from you…” Eric added dropping his eyes regretfully – I looked at him with a frown. “A telepath amongst vampires who are about to change their relationship with humans, who are about to get into politics… you would be an incredible weapon.”

“I… I assumed that you were somehow the reason too…” I admitted, looking away as well. “That’s why I couldn’t… couldn’t look at you after…” I shook my head. “It’s not your fault though Eric… I… ever since I started hearing thoughts I knew I could get into all sorts of trouble. I’m a journalist, have you any idea how many times I’ve interviewed people whose thoughts told me truths their mouths wouldn’t?” I laughed derisively. “The damage I could have done with that knowledge… but I knew better… But… when it came to Willa Burrell’s case… and then I met you and the woods and the werewolves…” I shook my head “Curiosity got the best of me… it’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault… it’s just… things just happened as they happened…” my shoulders sagged and I looked at the floor, defeated.

“I am glad you don’t hate me for it…” Eric spoke with true relief in his voice.

I looked down at him and smiled weakly, I was getting tired again but I still pushed myself forward and clasped my hands around his beautiful face and pressed my mouth to his. The scent of him made me tremble and quiver, and I sunk into him easily as he scooped me into the cradle of his arms, one hand clutching the back of my neck, the other hooking under my knees as he stood, carrying both our weights with ease.

I clutched at his shirt while he kissed me, holding me to him and making me feel precious. I had so much more to ask, but my body was tired again, at the same time other parts of my body wanted nothing of talking, and all of Eric.

“You tempt me, Sookie…” Eric breathed, drawing his lips to my forehead – they felt soft and gentle, the least you’d expect from such a frightening creature.

“What?” I asked hazily, holding onto him as I felt my arms growing weaker.

“You forget I can feel you…” he told me, skimming his lips across my hairline. “I want you too, little one…”

I sighed, rolling my head into the crook of his neck, wrapping my arms around him the best I could. He carried me back to bed, and then I watched as he walked over to the window and pulled the curtains closed tightly.  I smiled, knowing he’d stay with me until dawn. Even in the dark I followed him,  hearing the rustling sound of clothes being shed, and I moistened my lips in anticipation. I felt his weight upon me and his lips upon mine as he peeled the woolen dress off my body with ease. The best I felt all night was when he was inside me.

 


	6. Chapter 6

I awoke slowly, first aware of my own, slow, lazy breathing. I moaned and stretched, my eyes remained closed – a smile tugged the corners of my lips – remembering dreams, memories, both. I hugged the soft, feathered pillow beneath me. Peaceful, joyous sleep wasn’t something I’d had the privilege of in a while, but for the past two mornings, I’d woken up feeling nothing but redundantly blissful, if a little used in certain places. It filled me with a decadent sort of pleasure.

My eyes fluttered open into the darkened room, knowing the blackout curtains would be tightly closed and I sighed. I would have to get up to allow any light in. But at my slightest movement, a strong arm hooked around my middle and dragged me back against a cool, hard chest, surprising me. I looked over my shoulder to find Eric still in bed with me – clear blue eyes hooded with dark intentions, his tousled golden hair framing a wildly beautiful face. Yet he kissed my lips with unexpected tenderness and a purr erupted from deep within his chest, reverberating through my body, as he kept my back flush against him.

I shuddered pleasurably and closed my eyes, surrendering myself to his clever mouth and tongue. I dropped my head back to my pillow and reached out to brush my fingers through his hair as he continuously kissed, nipped and licked at my lips, his smart tongue sweeping inside the wetness of my mouth and stroking my own with a contagious hunger, that had me responding as though I was some expert kisser myself, my fingers dragging through his hair and tugging hard, harder than I would have considered gentle – but Eric didn’t care, it only caused him to growl softly into my mouth, his fangs grazed my bottom lip before he moved to carry on kissing down the hollow of my throat.

I stared at the canopy with suddenly cloudy eyes as long, dexterous fingers parted my folds to find me soaked already… still? It was hard to tell…

“Eric, why are you still here?” I whispered, whimpering when he flicked my aching nub with his thumb. “It’s morning… shouldn’t you be in a coffin somewhere?” I asked humorously, now grinning at the out-of-focus canopy. I had no idea whether he slept in a coffin.

“Morning…?” He raised his face from my collarbone, where he had been raining wet, open-mouthed kisses. “Oh, lover, it isn’t morning…” he smiled  _ fangily _ at me as I frowned in confusion. “You slept through the day… it is already dark outside… time to play…” he added with a purr before slanting his  head to lick the flesh around my right nipple at the same time he slipped two fingers into my slippery core.

“What?” I whimpered as my back arched and my hips bucked involuntarily. My eyes fluttered with my pleasure. He was  _ so good _  at this, I had a hard time forming a coherent thought. “But…” I frowned, confused. “I couldn’t have…  _ all day _ ?”

“All day…” Eric repeated against my mouth before licking my top lip teasingly, and then tugging it between his blunt teeth.

I closed my eyes when he stroked his tongue against mine again and whimpered when he worked a third finger inside me. It quickly became clear  _ why _  I’d slept through the day. With Eric as a lover, I wondered if I’d ever make it out of bed again.

“You  _ fiend _ …” I grinned against his mouth as I cupped his face between my hands, trying to get more of his wonderful mouth, curling my tongue around one of his fangs, to get him to growl and snarl at me like he had the night before.

He did – and it made me shiver with the intensity in his eyes. In one quick movement, he’d replaced his fingers with his cock and pushed me further up against the mattress making me gasp and close my eyes as they watered instantly. One arm locked beneath my shoulders, his fingers digging into my flesh to hold me in place.

I opened my eyes, my hands dropped from his face to his neck – he liked eye contact – he often demanded. The intensity in his dark blues could undo me. I whimpered as he started thrusting rhythmically, and hard. I drew my knees and folded my legs around him like he’d taught me and was rewarded instantly with a snarl as he reached deeper, reaching that elusive place I assumed girls were lying about in bathroom conversations.

“I-can’t-breathe…” I gasped between thrusts incoherently. I could feel sweat building on my forehead and chest.

“Yes, you can…” Eric told me with certainty. “You feel so good…” he moaned.

I blurted a colorful expletive and threw my head back and closed my eyes – feeling all my little nerves screaming with agony and pleasure with every stroke until stars exploded behind my eyes – my heart pounded so hard in my ears I could hear nothing else.

Eric growled through his own climax, his fingers digging into my hip and my shoulder to the point of pain – but I was so far gone I couldn’t even protest. I was falling, sinking through the soft mattress and dissolving into nothing, feeling nothing but Eric’s now slow, shallow thrusts into my aching folds.

“Oh my sweet girl…” Eric whispered as he  lowered himself upon me, without crushing me, and nuzzled my face and behind my ear. “It is true what they say about fairies… and now I’ve caught one… I’m keeping you…”

He wrapped me in his arms and rolled us over so I could lie sprawled on his chest. I chuckled at his words, which made no sense to me,  _ high _  as I was – my sex was still throbbing, aching deliciously, I felt our combined juices between my thighs – it was messy and dirty and decadent, and I secretly loved it all… wondering where he’d been all my life.

“What are you talking about…?” I asked him drowsily, my eyes closing out of their own accord. “You never even drank from me…” I sounded drunk and I laughed at myself.

Eric rubbed my back soothingly, one hand kneading the plump curve of my bottom, making me shudder.

“No… indeed I haven’t…” his fingers brushed my neck and with his thumb he reached to feel my pulse. I felt slightly sober as he did so. “But all of you is delicious and intoxicating… especially your little fairy snatch…” he told me, giving my behind a soft squeeze.

“Crude!” I protested weakly – frowning. But then I laughed. It was definitely the appropriate reaction to being spoken of in such a manner – but I couldn’t deny the dark pleasure it gave me anyway and then I laughed more at my hypocrisy.

“I still hope one day to be given the honor…” he said offhandedly, brushing his fingertips down my spine in such I way it was like I could feel it all the way down to my  _ little fairy snatch _ . “Oh to drink from you while I’m thrusting between your thighs… it would be death… in the best way possible of course.”

I dragged my heavy head up to look up at him curiously. He was half propped up by my pillows watching me with a strange reverence. At that time, the correlation between feeding and sex was unknown to me, but I heard the dark promise of his words anyway, and riled up as I was, it sounded like a very good promise.

“Why don’t you…?” I tilted my head to the side as if offering my neck to him.

His eyes flickered darkly momentarily, and he licked his lips in anticipation – but he quickly shook his head, clearing his eyes. “Not until I’m sure you’re healthy…”

I blinked my eyes repeatedly to try to clear my sex-fogged-brain - his words sobered me up completely – and I smiled, truly touched that he cared so much. But then I grinned and started laughing, I looked down as my shoulders started shaking, and hadn’t he been holding me, I might have rolled off of him entirely.

“What is so funny?” Eric asked with a curious smirk.

“It’s just really… so chivalrous of you…” I kept laughing. “You won’t drink from me but you will fuck me into mush so I’ll sleep a whole day – just to wake me up and do it again!” I kept laughing – truly amused.

Eric grinned for a moment, before a shadow crossed over his eyes and he became serious, he clasped both hands around my shoulders and dragged me up closer to his face abruptly. I stopped laughing surprised, staring at him. “I have been selfish…” he admitted. “I am sorry…”

I stared at him, once again speechless, my eyebrows arching. Then I burst laughing again. And he growled at me before he rolled me underneath him  so quickly I yelped.

“Oooh… headrush…” I shook my head.

“You’re too tempting…” Eric purred, nuzzling me before kissing my mouth. “What am I to do with you…?”

“What you’ve been doing already…” I told him seriously, cupping his face between my hands again. “Make me forget everything wrong with me…” I whispered brushing my lips against his, trying to coax him into kissing me.

“I cannot glamour you, Sookie…” Eric reminded me, while denying me what I wanted. He kept brushing his lips against mine, without delving any further. He also pretended to misunderstand me.

I pouted at him, dropping my head against the mattress, and dropping my  hands to the sides of my head. “ _ Fiend _ …” I repeated.

Eric smiled down at me, cocking his head to the side as he watched me curiously. I could see how pale he was. He hadn’t fed the night before, because he’d spent it with me. I licked my suddenly very dry lips, and shifted under him, as I tried to think of a way to convince him. I wanted him to bite me. I wanted to know if it felt anything like it’d felt in my dreams.

Eric blinked at me. “I can see the wheels turning, Miss Stackhouse…” he reached to curl a lock of my hair into his fingers.

“Can you?” I grinned and bit my bottom lip. His eyes flickered darkly. “What am I thinking?”

“Oh, I’m not sure…” he narrowed his eyes at me. “All I can feel is your… wantonness…”

My eyes widened. “Untrue!”

He laughed at me. “Outrage….” I rolled my eyes. “Annoyance…”

“Just bite me already!” I growled impatiently.

“Frustration…” Eric purred, leaning down close enough that the tip of our noses touched.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I am offering it now, Eric… it could be your last chance…” I threatened.

His eyes darkened again and instead of responding, he kissed me – deep and hungry as always, his tongue probing, fangs clicking and making me jolt – he smiled into my mouth, one hand clasping around the base of my neck, the other parting my thighs so he could nestle between them. I sighed with contentment as he pulled away, my eyes were still closed. He moved to kiss and suck at the base of my throat. He found my pulse and sucked the flesh lightly before licking the spot in preparation for the bite.

I felt the tiniest prick and I gasped. Eric cradled me in his arms, one hand cupping my cheek as he started drinking.

It was like the dream – only better.  _ How _  a dream could be so prophetic I didn’t know. But all my dreams of Eric seemed to be. I _  was floating _  as he drank from me and a heavy weight that had been coiled and aching within my chest was suddenly lifted – it’d been there so long, I barely even noticed it anymore. I’d been living with it since I lost my grandmother, but now, it was as though Eric was taking it away with his mouth – my eyes fluttered opened and closed as I felt a different type of drowsy – and then the suction stopped and Eric drew back to lap at the stinging puncture wounds.

Then I felt a numbness on the spot where he bit me, and then he was pulling away completely to face me, his eyes  dark and stormy, his cheeks slightly flushed. I swallowed thickly as we stared at each other. I felt my body, which had been spent a moment ago prickling and burning all over again. I felt my own skin flushing as I realized I wanted him again – and the look in his eyes told me it was reciprocal. But he refrained, and simply purred slowly, dipping down to nuzzle against my breasts reverently, kissing and licking, his fangs scraping teasingly, making me shiver.

“Eric…” I pleaded, thrusting my fingers into his hair.

“I’ve taken blood from you…” he reminded me. “… if not for your state I would, little one…”

I gasped as he plucked one nipple between his teeth and tugged  lightly. “Then you should stop doing that…”

Eric grinned at me, still sucking my flesh in his mouth. He let go with a pop and winked at me.

I smiled as I reached up to touch his flushed cheeks, they felt warm beneath my fingers. Eric watched me as he licked his lips and the inside of his mouth, savoring every last drop.

“What do I taste like?” I asked him with a strange curiosity.

His eyes drooped as he gazed at me, bracing his hands next to my head. “Like sunshine and honey… but honey the way it used to taste…”

I blinked at him “That must taste nice…”

He smiled again, and he brushed one long finger down my nose – it was such a tender gesture, it made my insides flutter.

“Thank you…” I told him.

“Oh Sookie…” he shook his head at me, as if my gratitude was absurd. “You honor me…” he whispered sincerely.

I blushed. He kissed my mouth again, but softly, and briefly, as if he was suddenly afraid to break me. “Now you must eat… I have taken from you, you need to replenish…” I nodded sluggishly. He watched me for a moment longer before he disappeared.

One moment he was there, braced on top of me, the next he was gone. I blinked, confused. I didn’t think I was ever going to get used to this.

He moved us in front of a fireplace on the first floor, sitting upon the softest rug. He brought me food –  _ breakfast at night _ . Ginger was a good woman, and a great cook. I ate voraciously, while Eric watched quietly, with that stillness of his I’d once found unnerving. I was halfway done with my omelet when I stopped to look at him strangely.

“Does this… gross you out?” I asked uncertainly. “Watching people eat?”

He shook his head slowly, watching me curiously. “No. None of it smells appetizing, but it’s not unpleasant.”

I shrugged with relief and kept eating. “I’m a little lost in time…” I narrowed my eyes as I finished. “Tonight is the 18 th  right?”

“Yes.”

“So I’ve been here for two days…” I swallowed. “What did you make Amelia believe happened to me?”

“I made her believe you’d gone back to your grandmother’s house, and that you asked not to be bothered.”

I sagged, feeling bad for Amelia. She had been so worried about me, now she probably thought I was a terrible, ungrateful brat.

“I should go back home…” I said poking my food, feeling suddenly full.

Eric moved in my peripheral and I looked up to see him squatting next to me, his elbows perched on his thighs as he looked down at me with his penetrating blue eyes. At first I was confused, but then I realized he was examining me, his nostrils were flared and he had a deep, searching frown.

“What?” I asked, recoiling  a little.

“I ask only that you wait until tomorrow morning. Wait until Dr. Ludwig can take another look at you. She may decide you should have another dose,” he explained softly.

“Another dose of… demon’s blood?” I asked uneasily.

“Yes…”

I looked away briefly, picking my glass of orange juice from the tray and nearly draining it at once. I swallowed, letting the cool liquid wash over me as I pondered my next question.

“Will I… will I start hearing people’s thoughts again now that I’ve had demon blood?” I looked up at him, with what I realized was  _ hope _ .

Eric didn’t answer immediately – his eyes flitted about my face, though his own betrayed no emotion. “I doubt it,” he said gently. “ _ Rituals  _ are everything when it comes to any type of blood magic. The blood that gave you your gift came through your bloodline. Imbibing diluted doses won’t have the same effect.”

I sagged involuntarily. I looked down at my food again, chewing on my lip. “How does that work anyway?” I shook my head, confused. “That demon’s blood killed my grandmother… it  _ burned _  her from the inside… how could she have lived with it for so many years and then…” I shook my head.

“It’s in the ritual,” Eric explained patiently. “You’re not entirely human Sookie, which means your grandfather was fairy.” He blinked curiously, tilting his head to the side. “Is your grandfather still alive?”

I shook my head. “No, he died when I was ten… he had a heart condition.”

Eric nodded slowly, and he had a new grave expression. “I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this…” he began uncertainly. “…but it seems there’s no one left alive who can give you answers. It’s more than likely the man who was married to your grandmother… was not your grandfather. For  _ you _  to exist… he should have been fae – a nearly immortal being… who wouldn’t die of  heart disease… or age the way humans do.”

I blinked at him, trying to absorb what he’d just told me. “You’re telling me my grandmother had an affair?” I snapped.

“I’m sorry…” Eric nodded. “But yes…”

I shook my head and rolled away from him, scrambling to my feet. I began to pace, and my returning fever became obvious to me, but I tried to ignore it. “That can’t be…”

“It’s the only explanation, Sookie. I’m sorry.”

I turned and he was standing right there. I’d never seen him move.

“So… my grandmother had an affair with some  _ fairy _  and both drank that demon’s blood…  _ why _ ?”

“I’m afraid only Cataliades has that answer now. They obviously had some sort of pact.”

“And then you happened…” I snapped.

Eric blinked at me, and there was hurt in his eyes. I rolled my eyes at myself and started pacing.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean that…”

“I  _ am _  sorry…”

“I  _ know _ …” I interrupted. “Eric please, forgive me…” I turned back to him. “I’m… I’m just so confused… I don’t want to lash at you… you’re the only one who has ever…” I sighed, unable to put into words how important he was to me – because I didn’t fully comprehend why he was so important, how he’d become so important.

He was the only one who had been able to see me. The only one whom I could talk to about the absurdity of everything. I needed him. I couldn’t turn against him.

I walked the short distance between us and wrapped my arms around his middle. Eric folded me into his arms, brushing his fingers through my hair.

“I am sorry I don’t have more answers for you little one…”

I shook my head and shut my eyes tightly against the tears pooling in them. Maybe I would never get my answers. Maybe nothing would ever make sense. But if I could hold on to Eric, perhaps it wouldn’t matter.

“I can feel you over thinking, Sookie…” Eric grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. “Everything’s going to be well.”

“You can’t lie to me…” I smiled tiredly at him.

“I am not lying…” he said seriously, his grip turning into a caress. “I am sorry that you miss your gift, that we don’t know who are your ancestors... They might never come to claim you. But I will look after you, if you let me.”

I still couldn’t understand why he would want to. For blood and sex I had to assume. But for how long? I knew nothing about how loyal vampires could be. He had been around for over a thousand years, how many human lovers had he lost? Did he even care for them? Did vampires even love like we did?

I remembered something important, and I stepped back from him, glancing down at the clothes I was currently wearing. They were more sophisticated than what I was used to, and they were  a little tight on me, but they smelled nice, expensive – they clearly belonged to someone. Someone important to him? Someone he loved? Another vampire? Or the human he fed on the night I woke up in his house after the demon Cataliades attacked me?

“Who do these clothes belong to?” I looked up at him curiously, hoping he wouldn’t lie to me.

“They belong to my progeny. Pam.”

I took a step back, tilting my head curiously, tugging at my shirt. “Is she small… blonde?”

Eric’s eyes flickered suspiciously. “Yes…”

“I didn’t imagine her then…” I remembered the lithe little blonde standing in front of my window as I slipped in and out of consciousness the night I arrived. “Pam is her name?”

“Yes… what do you mean you didn’t imagine her?” he narrowed his eyes.

“I uh… I thought I’d seen a woman in my room… well… uhm…” I cleared my throat. “…the room I’ve been sleeping in.”

Eric grew serious. “If she was there, I apologize on her behalf… she was not supposed to be here at all.”

“Why not?” I asked curiously.

Eric blinked repeatedly as he moved away from me, assuming the stance of a pacing lion, his hands flexed, his head slanted forward slightly as he gazed somewhere into space.

“It’s a precaution… I’d rather no one visits while you’re here…”

“No one… no one  _ vampire _ ?” I guessed.

“Yes…”

“Would they… what? Just pounce me and kill me?”

He stopped pacing and shook his head. “No… not that they wouldn’t be tempted to… with the way you smell…” I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze – he seemed really serious about this. “You were not part of my plans and…”

“And…?”

“I just wanted to spare you… especially in your condition.”

His answer left me more uncertain than ever. “But does  _ she _  want to meet me?”

“I don’t know… I was unaware she’d been to your room.”

“But she knows about me,” I deduced. “She lent me her clothes…”

“She knows about you,” he conceded.

“Does she stay here when I’m not around?”

“Sometimes…”

“Has she been spending her days in the woods like Liam…?” I remembered the shovel I’d seen.

Eric smirked – something like fondness crossed his features as his eyes dropped to the floor beneath us. “Pam underground? Surrounded by dirt?” he shook his head. “No… she has her own home, and I assume that’s where she goes to ground, in New Orleans.”

“New Orleans is six hours away…” I pointed out.

“We can be very fast…”

I remembered something else. “When you brought me here… were you…  _ flying _ ?”

Eric smirked again. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d notice, weak as you were…” his eyes trailed over me as if to ascertain himself of my current state.

“You can fly…” I stood there, disbelieving. “Sometimes I just have to stop and… wonder why I’m not pinching myself more…” I laughed weakly.

Eric smiled sympathetically. “You grew up to hear people’s thoughts… you’re more used to the unusual than you give yourself credit for.”

“Maybe…” I nodded slowly. “Or maybe this medicine isn’t really working that well…” my knees buckled and the room spun.

I felt his cool hands lifting me, his arm hooking under my knees and when my eyes focused again he was staring at me seriously, his jaw set.

“I should not have fed from you…” he said regretfully. “I should have known it was a bad sign there was no trace of demon blood in your taste…”

“What do they taste like?” I asked stupidly.

“Like ash…”

“Oh…” I frowned. “Now I understand why you were reluctant to drink from me…”

Eric ignored that remark and pulled me closer into him before he started to move, I could barely feel his movements. Soon I could feel the bed beneath me – there were clean sheets in place and I marveled at Ginger’s competence, considering the strange hours kept around the house.

 

My mysterious Dr. Amy Ludwig returned to the Landry House on January 19 th . She was ushered inside the bedroom by Ginger, early in the morning – with a new dose of my  _ medicine _ . I noticed with a certain amount of disappointment her thoughts, as Ginger’s, were muted, neither could I feel their minds – Eric had been right, I wouldn’t hear people’s thoughts anymore.

“How exactly do you go about getting demon’s blood?” I asked with unease after I’d ingested the awful thing.

“There are a couple of methods. You can ask for a donation, or you can kill them…” she said casually, taking the empty glass back from me. “Now this concoction contains a bigger dose of the blood, Miss Stackhouse, let us hope it works better than the last one.”

“May I ask you something personal, doctor?” I asked her while the liquid still travelled down my throat, so thick it was.

“Well you can try…” she said as she started putting things back into her briefcase.

“How did you end up working for a vampire?” I narrowed my eyes curiously.

“Not  _ a _  vampire, child… vampires…” she corrected me. “And you should ask the Viking about that, not me.” she looked at me meaningfully.

“Eric was a  _ Viking _ ?” I arched my eyebrows.

“Mhmm…” she nodded as she closed her briefcase.

“Why would the demon not want vampires to meet a telepath?” I tried a different question.

Dr. Ludwig paused on her way to the door to look at me. “Again, you’re asking the wrong person, dear. I know nothing about their agenda.”

“But you know where you can get their blood apparently.”

She smiled cryptically at me and turned around, grabbing at the door handle. “I will see you when you need a new dose, Miss Stackhouse… let us hope it won’t be too soon.” She pushed the door and was on her way out when she stopped to turn back around. “Ah… I’ll make sure to let Mr. Northman know he cannot feed from you until you’re feeling more steady. I have never really seen a vampire caring for a pet as he does  _ you _ , but then again, I suppose your fairy blood makes you more interesting to keep around…” she barked a laugh. “So that shouldn’t be a problem… either way… make sure to remind him if he gets frisky with you. If he wants you alive, he’ll leave you alone.”

I watched with a frown as she left. In the silence of the room the word  _ pet _  hung around me strangely. Was that what I was?

I didn’t waste any more time on that bed once I felt strength returning to my legs. I stood and went around finding something to wear. It was cold outside, and I was determined to go home that day.

 

Before Eric retired from me the night before, he’d promised to make his driver available for me in the morning so he could drive me home. I hadn’t seen his driver since my first time at the Mansion, when he blinded me with his flashlight. So I was eager to see this other human who worked for a vampire. I knew there were three humans Eric trusted: Ginger, Mr. Burnham, and his driver. I had only seen Mr. Burnham once as well - he was the grouchy man with the loud thoughts.

I didn’t know why Eric didn’t want to be present when I left. He left me a note though, a sweet one, wishing me a safe journey home, and a promise to come and see me soon. I found myself looking forward to it very much. But it was the first time I had any desire to actually go back home and try to get my life back – if only my health would cooperate.

Ginger had breakfast ready for me and I ate obediently, because I was actually starving. Then I picked myself up, wrapped the heavy, elegant coat that didn’t belong to me around my body and stepped outside. The driver was waiting for me.

“Miss Stackhouse,” he nodded at me politely. “I’m Ruben, I’m here to drive you home.”

“Right… hi…” I stared at him a moment too long and he shifted uncomfortably. I was again trying to test Eric’s theory. I still wanted him to be wrong. My shoulders sagged. “Sorry uhm… I’m  _ ready _  to go…” I said spreading my arms.

It shouldn’t surprise me Eric would ride in a Bentley. I shook my head with a little smile, and thanked Ruben as I slipped into the back seat. My eyes scanned the edge of the woods as we rolled onto the street outside the gates – the shovel was absent this time.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Two days after my return home, I sat alone at Amelia’s vintage tea-table by the window, in the front room. With a cup of coffee in front of me and a cigarette between my fingers, I stared through the see-through curtains at the shapes of the people walking by on the sidewalk. I’d squint my eyes and concentrate, annoyed when they walked by in absolute silence.

It was a futile exercise, like trying to move a dead limb, or scratch a phantom one. Pointless, it was gone and I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t go back to my initial apathy – when the loss of my grandmother and my active role in her demise were all I could focus on. Back then I avoided people, I was glad I couldn’t hear Jason and Amelia’s pitiful thoughts about me. Now it was different, now I felt awake and alive and I felt like I’d become deaf altogether. Deaf to what people were  _ really _  saying.

I could see Amelia in my peripheral – standing in the doorway to the foyer, watching me. There was no need for me to hear her thoughts to know what she was thinking. I sighed deeply, so she’d know I knew she was there.

“I have to go to work…” she broke the silence uncertainly.

I looked over at her and managed a smile and a nod. “Okay… have a good day!”

“Do you want to go out tonight? We could have a drink?” she shrugged hopefully. “My treat!” she added, probably concerned about my finances given I was without a job.

“Maybe…” I said vaguely.

It seemed good enough for her as she nodded slowly, and then she turned away to leave. I heard her steps on the floorboards, and then the door opening and closing. A moment later I saw her shape walk past me on the window and again I squinted, uselessly.

I put an end to my pitiful pastime, standing up and extinguishing what was left of my cigarette on the ashtray. I took the half-empty coffee cup and threw what was left of it in the sink. I drummed my fingers against the counter top for a moment while I decided what to do next.

Five minutes later I was grabbing my coat from behind the door and stepping outside in the cold. I decided to head back to the city library. There was nothing else to do with my time. I had already been looking up jobs in the paper, and I had mailed several companies with my resume the day before.

The last I had heard from Eric, had been through his secretary Mr. Burnham, when I called the house the night before.  He’d had to leave town on business, and he didn’t know when he would be back. I wondered what business did vampires have, but then I remembered the whole thing about coming out to the human population. Maybe vampires had big meetings about that. It was kind of absurd to think about it.

A lot of things about my life were absurd. But they  _ had _  started with my hearing people’s thoughts – so I could hardly lay all the blame at Eric’s feet.

I palmed the side of my neck where he’d bitten me two nights ago as I braced myself against the wind. I had found there to be no puncture wounds upon close inspection on a mirror. But I shivered with the memory of the experience – it wouldn’t let me forget it had happened. My skin would still break into goosebumps whenever I revisited a moment of our time together. I missed him.  I tried not to – but I did.

It didn’t help when I stepped into the library, remembering the last time I’d been there, to research about his supposed condition.

This time I had different things in mind. But I should have known better than to look up  _ fairies _ . Eric had warned me there was nothing truly useful in English about  _ real _  fairies, that he knew of. Sadly I couldn’t speak any other language. I’d had French in school, but I could barely count to ten.

So I sat for an hour reading more useless material about baby-stealing, winged little fiends and the rituals necessary to stop them. As I walked to the shelves to return the books I’d borrowed a flurry of movement in my peripheral caused me to look up into the doorway to a more private room. My eyes narrowed as I watched a young student vacating the microfiche machine.

An idea popped into my head as I started walking over to the private room. Stories, dozens of random stories about kids going into those woods started coming back to me. The woods that I had, prior to my own experience, believed to be simply a harmless place people loved making up stories about. But I knew now that it wasn’t true, didn’t I?

I had run into  _ werewolves _ . Willa Burrell had been attacked by a  _ vampire _ . I had met a demon in the middle of the city. And I was reportedly descendant of  _ fairies _ .

I remembered picking up the paper to read ludicrous reports and then putting them away with derision. What if some of them were true? And what if there was something in those papers that could actually be useful?

I sat at the microfiche, equipped with the magnifying screen, and I started going through the archives of the  _ Chronicle _ . There were a lot of boring things to sift through, and I sat there for a long time, grateful no one else came looking to use the machine. There were a few notes about parties in the woods wounding up with the police coming to take kids home, or fires being started and the fire brigade having to be called. But nothing that jumped at me in any way.

I sighed, wondering at the uselessness of my task, taking a moment to rub the back of my neck and stretch. I looked over my shoulder, through the open door into the library where a few people loitered about silently. I looked back at the magnifying screen and sighed again, giving one last, hopeful little spin on the dial. I cocked my head to the side, and leaned closer to read a page-three note about a bizarre incident in 1977.

**_The Strange Case of Barry Horowitz_ **

_ Seventeen year old Barry Horowitz, a Freshman in the Pine Vale College, caused a bit of a stir on campus, last Friday night, September 19. During a keg party outside the Community Lodge,  Mr. Horowitz is said to have had a sudden fit and walked around as if drunk, asking his colleagues why was it so hot, before collapsing on the floor. _

_ Authorities were called to the location as well as paramedics. Mr. Horowitz was taken to the hospital while the remaining guests of the party were interrogated. Mr. Horowitz’s roommate, name not disclosed, declared he had just arrived at the gathering and had consumed no alcohol and no drugs. _

_ Perhaps the strangest declaration came from Mr. Horowitz himself, in the morning after. He claimed a man in a suit walked up to him, told him he had made a mistake, and then touched him upon the forehead, before vanishing. Shortly after the student started feeling unwell, as if running a high fever, and collapsed. No other party guests confirmed having seen such a man. _

_ The Pine Vale College Administration promised to cooperate with the police to investigate the possibility of a new drug on campus. _

_ Mr. Horowitz and his family have been unavailable for comment since his drug use has been called into question. _

_ Colleagues confirm Barry Horowitz was never known to drink, much less use illegal substances. _

I couldn’t believe what I had just read. Barry Horowitz’s account sent shivers down my spine. He had been touched upon his forehead, he’d felt as if he was running high fever, and he’d collapsed!

The date on that article was September 22 nd , 1977 _. _  I had been working at the  _ Chronicle _  already, I  _ knew _  the person who’d written the article, and I had a vague memory of reading this same article back then.

I fumbled around for pen and paper and wrote down the most important passages of the article and the date. I stood, ready to leave.

It seemed like I hadn’t been the only one to be visited by a repentant gift-giver. I needed to meet with him, I needed to know more. Had his demon been Mr. Cataliades or somebody else? Had he been able to read thoughts like me and had he ever… no he probably hadn’t. Either way I had a lead of some sort, finally.

I was walking down the street, clutching my notes, parting through the crowd going in the opposite way, now with an annoyed frown on my forehead. I wanted to get to the campus faster! But I’d left my car at home. I had walked about two blocks in a stride when I suddenly had to stop and clutch at a lamp-post, feeling weakened. I hadn’t eaten since morning. I sighed unhappily, moving my head around lazily. I spotted a café just down the corner. I dragged myself over there and ordered a hamburger and fries.

I sat at the counter with other customers and sipped from my coca cola, eyes scanning slowly around. Usually, in a setting like this, my head would be flooded with thoughts, now there was nothing but the faint  hum of conversations and the television in the background.

“Hey Bruce! Turn that up!” one of the men at the counter shouted, drawing everyone’s attention to the TV set propped up against the wall.

The bartender moved to get on a stool and turn the volume up. I turned my attention towards it as well, just as a dish with my food was placed in front of me. The channel 7 newscaster was speaking over images of a smoked sky and a pile of ashes.

_ “… police doesn’t yet know what has caused the fire. As the property was quite isolated, there was fortunately no damage to spread. The fire went up overnight as far as we can tell…” _

“Ain’t that just outside of Shreveport?” another customer chimed in. “It was an abandoned warehouse for years.”

“How does an  _ abandoned _  warehouse catch fire?” the first one chortled, sipping his beer.

“Homeless idiots with their matches!” a third one spoke up.

I frowned staring at the images on the television set. Something about them unsettled me. I shivered and forced my eyes away and down to my food. I needed to get my energy back so I could find Barry Horowitz.

The sun was already on its way down when I found myself outside the Community Lodge near campus. I didn’t know what were the chances Mr. Horowitz was still living in one of the rooms, three years later. But I could ask around. If I couldn’t find him, there was always the phone book.

I saw three girls smoking against the stone wall on the steps just outside the door. I reached for my  _ Camel Lights _  and joined them casually.

“Excuse me, do you have fire?”

“Yeah…” one of the girls, a pale, red-haired one reached into her coat pocket for her lighter and I leaned over so she could help me.

“Thanks…” I  smiled and then looked beyond them, towards the close doors. “Do you girls live here?”

“Yep, all three of us,” the first one said, taking a puff of her cigarette.

The other two, brunettes, eyed me suspiciously. I smiled at them, trying to put them at ease.

“What are you, a Sophomore?” I asked the redhead.

“Yep!” she smiled. “I’m Jess, these are Sara and Donna, they’re Seniors.”

I smiled at the two brunettes hopefully. They might have known him, even if he no longer lived there.

“That’s great! I used to go to college here too…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… few years ago…” I took my time as the girls seemed to relax. “Say… you don’t happen to know a Barry Horowitz, do you?”

The redhead shook her head immediately but one of the brunettes, Sara, looked at me curiously. She tilted her head to the side, and eyed her friend who looked back at her cluelessly.

“Barry? Yeah I knew Barry. Are you looking for him?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am…” I smiled. “D’you know where I can find him?”

“Yeah…” the brunette had a funny smile on her lips now. “The Pine Vale Cemetery.” I blinked at her, surprised, and she shrugged. “Sorry. He passed away uhm…” she tucked her hands in her pockets after tossing her cigarette to the ground and looked up , trying to remember. “Late 77 or early 78…” she shrugged again. “Can’t be sure, we weren’t close. I guess no one had a chance to get close to him. He died a Freshman…”

“Oh…” I gaped, my eyes dropping to the floor.

“That’s so sad…” the redhead, Jess, spoke up. “How did he die?”

“No one knows… he was just sick for a long time…” Sara replied. “His family had to take him away, he couldn’t go to classes or anything. Then one day his roommate told us he’d died. There was a service for him at the school chapel.”

“That’s heavy…” Jess sighed.

“I don’t remember that…” Donna shrugged.

“I wonder why, you Burn Out!”

The three girls giggled and bumped their friend between them while she rolled her eyes. I waited until they’d calmed down.

“You mentioned his roommate…” I started tentatively. “Do you know where I can find him?”

“Clive doesn’t live here anymore,” Sara said. “He shares an apartment with two other guys three blocks from here.”

“Right… Clive…?” I reached for my notes.

“Clive Cooper…” Sara eyed my notes curiously as I handed them over so she could write down the address. “Are you like, what? A journalist?”

I looked up at her with a bitter smile. “Thanks for the information.”

“No problem…” Sara shrugged giving me back my notes. “Barry was a bit wacked… but he was okay…”

“Wacked?” I arched my eyebrows.

“Yeah, you know… he didn’t act normal all the time… he frowned really hard when talking to people… it was weird…”

“Right…” I put my pen and notes away. “Well, thanks again. G’night, girls…”

“G’night!” they chimed.

I walked the three blocks to get to the right address and I knocked. It was already night by then, and street lights started going on all around me. I braced against the building cold as I waited.

A tall, lanky blond yanked the door open after a moment – he was shirtless, with his hair all mussed up. He smiled languidly, his eyes trailing over me as he leaned onto the door. Oh I knew that look, and I didn’t miss it.  I smiled tightly.

“Hi, excuse me… I’m looking for Clive Cooper?”

The smile was gone instantly, and he looked disappointed as he straightened up. “He’s in here… who are you?”

“I’m… Sookie Stackhouse… he doesn’t know me, but he might have some information I need… for an… article…” I lied.

“Journalist, huh?” he smirked with renewed interest. “Well come on in, I’ll get Clive for you.”

The apartment was not unlike the one Amelia and I had lived in for a year. He led me through the living room, where another boy seemed to be listening to Michael Jackson’s latest album, and through a dining room full of clutter, until we walked onto a well-lit kitchen, where another boy sat, surrounded by books and paper.

“Clive, you got a  _ visitor _ !” the boy said dramatically.

Clive Cooper looked up with surprise. He was a brown-haired, green-eyed, freckled boy with glasses. He looked confused for a moment but then he stood.

“Ah… sorry… who are you?”

“Hi, I’m Sookie Stackhouse…” I shook his hand. Usually when I touched someone, their thoughts were sharper. Then I sighed, staring down at our joined hands unhappily. “I uh… used to work for the  _ Chronicle… _ ” I paused. “I have a few questions about Barry Horowitz… if you have the time…”

The boy blinked back at me. “My name was never printed, how did you…?”

“I asked around your former dorm…”

“Ah…” he nodded. “Uhm… Paul, you can go…” he said to his roommate with annoyance.

I looked over my shoulder to see the blond boy staring at my behind. He looked up and smirked at me before walking away.

“Please forgive him…” Clive said. “He’s not always… well actually, he’s always like that…”

I chuckled. “It’s fine… I’ve known many Pauls.”

Clive smiled. “Please sit down…” he gestured at the table. “All I have to offer is coffee…”

I shook my head as I sat down. “Please, all I need are a few minutes of your time…”

“Okay…” the boy sat across from me curiously. “You said you  _ used _  to work for  _ Chronicle _ ? So I guess you’re here about that article about Barry?”

“Yeah… you spoke with Vanessa Peters, at the time? She’s the one who wrote that article.”

“Uhm… yeah, I remember a… woman… vaguely…” he shrugged. “So what can I do for you?”

“You can answer a few questions…” I smiled hopefully. “Starting with… how did Mr. Horowitz die?”

“Oh uh…” Clive shook his head sadly. “… he was sick for months after that incident. His fever wouldn’t go down. He stopped attending classes. His aunt and uncle picked him up one day, took him back home.”

“Where is home?”

“Shreveport. They lived in Shreveport. Barry died in January 1978… of… a fever… it was all the doctors could say really.”

My heart was thumping in my chest. Four months. Barry Horowitz had lived for four months after his encounter with a demon.

“Are you okay?” Clive leaned forward in his seat. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine…” I shook my head, and tried to focus. “Did uhm… did Barry personally tell  _ you _  the same story he told the  _ Chronicle _  in 1977?”

“Well he didn’t tell the  _ Chronicle _ …” Clive explained with a sigh. “…he told his doctors and one of the nurses heard him and passed it along…”

“I see…” I frowned. “But did he tell  _ you _  the same story?”

“Yes,” the boy admitted. “No one believed him, of course. No one else had seen a man in  suit at the party. The party was for college kids…” he laughed. “We all assumed it was the fever talking…”

“But did Barry sustain that afterwards?”

“Oh yes, to his death from what I heard… His aunt and uncle did all they could for him.”

“He had no living parents or grandparents?”

“No… just his aunt and uncle.”

“No sudden deaths in the family between Barry’s incident and his own death?”

“No…” Clive narrowed his eyes at me curiously. “Why?”

I cleared my throat and shook my head. “Sorry uhm… what do you remember about Barry being sick?”

“I remember him being in bed a lot…” Clive shrugged. “He was always hot, he always looked sort of feverish and flushed…” he narrowed his eyes a bit more. “There was this… he had this weird way of looking at you when you talked to him, you know?” he laughed nervously. “At times I could  _ swear _  he’d read my mind…” he shook his head to himself. “After that night… he kept saying  _ I lost it _ … and he’d stare really hard at people when speaking to them, it made everybody nervous…. Shortly after he was taken away, and then he died.” He shuddered. “He was a bit of  a strange boy… but  I liked him…”

I smiled sympathetically. As much as I could, given the bleak future Mr. Cooper had just painted for me.

 

I stepped back on the sidewalk, minutes later, tucking my hands in my pockets as  _ Off the Wall _  blared in the background, through the windows of the house I’d just left. I started walking back, feeling numb.

Four months. I should have four months… I was practically dead… unless Dr. Ludwig’s concoctions saved me. I could be dead before spring.

I ended up waving for a taxi to drive me home. Amelia was waiting for me anxiously in the living room. She again mentioned going out for a drink. I just wanted to go to my room, lie down and contemplate my life. But I nodded, forcing another smile. I had been making Amelia nervous – and I couldn’t have that. I needed her to believe I was going back to normal.

So we got into her car and she drove us to a pub we often visited in the past. We sat by one of the large windows to the street, in the smoking section. Other friends soon joined us, and I realized she must have called them for backup.  I was in my best behavior, drinking my gin and listening to their stories and laughing along with them. Amelia was probably the only one who noticed the laughter never reached my eyes. I caught her concerned look a few times, but I ignored it.

“Did you hear about that fire at the old Warehouse off the road to Shreveport?” our friend JB asked suddenly. “The place went up in smokes faster than a sneeze!”

“Yeah, what a creepy story!” Maudette chimed in.

“What was in there to burn anyway?” Amelia shrugged. “Just a bunch of rotten wood!”

“If that was all it was, why would anyone set fire to it?” JB questioned. “Warehouses don’t spontaneously combust!”

I again had that uneasy feeling while hearing about that fire. But something caught my attention from my peripheral. I looked out the window to see a strange man on the sidewalk, just standing there with his hands in his coat pockets, looking straight  _ at me. _

I shivered involuntarily as I noticed the unnatural glow to his pale, white skin. I knew instantly what he was – and judging by the way he stared at me, he knew what I was too. He was tall with curly dark hair and pale, green eyes. His lips were rosy and moist, there was a slight flush to his cheeks – he’d fed…

“Who is he, Sookie?” Amelia asked me from across the table.

“I… I don’t know…” I looked at her uneasily. Amelia was staring at him uncomfortably as well.

“You don’t know him?” she frowned.

“No…” I kept staring at her instead, I swallowed deeply.

“What are you two gossiping about over there?” Dawn shouted from the other end of the table.

Amelia turned her head sharply. “There’s just this creepy man staring at Sookie out there!”

“Where?” everyone else turned and leaned over to look.

I looked over myself, sharply, but he was gone. I sighed with relief.

“You two are drunk!” JB laughed.

Amelia and I exchanged a look and remained quiet. We didn’t see him anymore, and conversation moved away from freak fires into happier territory.

Hours later I was in my bed, attempting to fall asleep, regardless of everything I’d learned that day.

I was in that place between consciousness and sleep when something distracted me. I felt a presence in my room, and there was a sudden sweet, smoky scent about the air. My eyes opened narrowly in the dark, and I caught sight of something silver, waving like a pendulum in front of me.

“What the hell?” I sat up in bed abruptly, reaching for my side lamp.

There was a shriek and then the light went on. Amelia was in my bedroom with a hand to her chest. The metal object I’d seen was something like a thurible, used for spreading incense, and smoke was coming out of it. Amelia was panting and I was frowning.

“Amelia? What are you  _ doing _ ?”

“I uh…” she tried to speak as she seemed to be trying to calm down, her back flat against my wall. “I was just… uhm… performing  a cleansing…”

“A cleansing?” I frowned at her. “Is that some witch stuff?”

Amelia sighed and swallowed. “The air about you has been… charged…” she put it delicately.

I rolled my eyes. “Say what?”

Amelia’s shoulders sagged and she finally pulled away from the wall to come and sit on the corner of my bed. “I’ve been worried about you. I can feel how… you’re… well I don’t know how to put it…”

“Possessed?” I asked, unimpressed.

“ _ No! _ ” she said quickly. “That’s not what I meant! You’re sad, you’re… full of negative energy!”

“Oh, Amelia…” I pushed my covers off my knees and threw my legs to the side. “I’m fine… and that smells awful…”

“It’s just incense…” she shrugged, watching me as I stood. “I’m worried about you…”

“I know…” I turned back to her, running my fingers through my matted hair. “I’m sorry that I have you concerned. But I… I don’t think your… cleansing is gonna fix that…”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Amelia blinked at me hopefully.

“Yeah!” I said with a shrug. “There’s nothing to tell though... I’m… looking for a job, and things should go back to normal…”

Amelia watched me as if she didn’t think it as that simple. “Okay… I’m sorry I tried to cleanse you…”

I laughed. “Maybe some tea would be nice…”

“I’ll get right on it!” she said scrambling to her feet and out of the room.

I sighed, waving my hands around to try to get rid of that sweet smell. I looked at my closed window and decided to open it to air my room out. I pushed the window up and put the latch on with a sigh.

I stared into the darkened street as I lamented my restless night, and as thoughts of poor Barry Horowitz returned to haunt me.

Then I saw down the corner from me, clearly bathed in light from a lamp-post – the vampire I’d seen outside the pub, looking straight back at me. For a beat I just stared at him, paralyzed. Then he slowly  reached with one hand out of his pocket, and  _ waved _  at me.

I pulled back and closed the window violently, my heart in my ears and goosebumps rushing all over me.


	8. Chapter 8

I drove back to the Landry House in the morning of January 23 rd , after a restless night in which I lay awake, thinking about that vampire – wondering if he was still outside, and why. I could only relax and fall asleep after dawn. After I knew for sure no vampires could be standing outside my window.

So when I first pulled up in front of the gates, I was too exhausted to realize what was going on. I killed the engine and fixed my mirror, running a hand through my hair, trying to remember if I’d run a brush through it at all.

That was when movement on my peripheral finally made me alert and I looked up to see one of the sides of the large, tall gate swinging back and forth in the wind. The gates were opened, and there was no one in sight.

A feeling of desolation and hopelessness took over me. They were gone – I kept saying in my head. Eric had left me. He’d fled somewhere and left me. Why, why would he do that?

I bombarded myself with tortuous questions for a full minute as I sat there, imagining the  _ murder house _ as it once was, all those years ago, before vampires were real, before fairies and werewolves were real, back when being able to read people’s thoughts was the  _ one _ truly absurd thing in my life.

And then, from between the trees to the left, behind the gates, three dark, scurrying shapes appeared. I sat up straight and grasped the steering wheel. Thoughts of abandonment and loneliness left me. I was wrong! He wasn’t gone! I was sure they were going to be Ruben and maybe Mr. Burnham and… who else?

A moment later three boys, who couldn’t be older than eleven burst past the open gates, yelling at each other. One of the boys tripped and fell, the others stopped to help him. I threw open my door and wrung myself out of the car faster than I knew I could.

“ _ Hey! _ ” I called out to them, running around the front of my car. “What are you kids doing here? This is private property!”

The three boys looked up, startled, the one in the middle still trying to balance himself on his own legs, they gasped and quickly scrambled to get away from me as I approached.

“ _ Wait! _ ” I started running after them but stopped, catching my breath as they quickly disappeared around the corner.

What would I do if I caught them? It was a foolish chase. I walked back up to the open gates, and I called out to Ruben, walking towards the watching post. It was in the direction the boys had sprung from, and I wondered if he had managed to scare them off. But when I looked into the little cabin, it was empty. I frowned and jogged back to my car, deciding then to drive up to the house. All curtains were in place, and it filled me with hope. Something had happened, obviously – but he was still home. He had to be.

I got off my car and walked up to the door. I rang the bell and waited. Minutes passed and I frowned before ringing the bell again and then I started knocking until my hand started hurting.

“GINGER! MR. BURNHAM!” I shouted at the door, growing desperate.

I turned around and leaned against the door as I tried not to spiral down into hopelessness again. I tugged at my hair and tried telling myself there had to be a good explanation for this and sooner or later  _ someone _ would come.

He couldn’t have simply left town – I didn’t care that the place looked abandoned, it just didn’t make sense. Eric cared about me too much to have simply left like this. I knew he did! And I needed him now. He was all I had. I was going to die and he was the only one who could help me.

It was as I stood there, trying to keep myself from panicking and bursting into tears that I saw, from afar, as a familiar shape crossed the path of the open gates. I gasped and stumbled forward several steps.

It was Ginger Buck, walking at a slow pace, throwing glances behind her, across the road as she wrapped a long, gray house coat around her small frame. I frowned as I watched her, and I understood where she was looking at. She was looking into the tree line, into the forest. I started jogging down the pathway towards her, and when she finally looked forward again, she halted at the sight of me.

She looked pale, her brown eyes wide and full of worry. She looked startled, and then relieved. She started walking again just as I reached her.

“Ginger… what’s going on?” I gasped. “I found the gates open and three boys running out of property and then no one answers the door…”

“Boys, what boys?” Ginger paled even more, one hand dropping to her stomach.

“I don’t know!  _ Boys _ !” I shrugged. “They were running like they were being chased! I thought maybe Ruben had scared them away but I couldn’t find him in his cabin…”

“No…” Ginger shook her head tiredly. “He isn’t there…”

“Well, where is he?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” Ginger shook her head tiredly again.

I swallowed thickly, something about the way she was behaving was starting to scare me. “What’s wrong, Ginger? Something’s wrong, I can tell… Where’s Eric…?”

She blinked repeatedly as she shook her head, and then she wrapped the house coat  tighter around herself. “He’s in the ground… healing…”

“Healing?” I stuttered.

Ginger nodded. “They say being buried in the ground helps them heal faster… Master Eric needed to be buried…” she shook her head sadly.

“What happened to him?” my voice was nearly inaudible.

“There was a fire yesterday, at the place where Master Eric was… they say most of them couldn’t escape and…”

My heart dropped to my stomach as Ginger shook her head, staring down sadly. Images from that fire in a warehouse returned to me, the images from the TV broadcast showing a burned down building in the middle of nowhere.

“Oh my God…”

“They attacked during the day so…” Ginger sighed.

“Who attacked?” I demanded.

“I don’t know… I… I don’t know I just know that someone did, and a lot of them died… but Master Eric got out… and Mr. Burnham picked him up and drove him back last night. Then Master Eric told us to take him to the woods and bury him there for the day, until it was night and he could come out…”

I looked over her shoulder towards the woods and swallowed. “Why in there? Why not here in the garden?”

Ginger shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know…”

I thought for a moment. “Take me to him.”

Ginger blinked at me surprised. “I…”

“Take me to him Ginger… I want to see where he is.”

“He’s… under the ground…” she explained needlessly.

“I know… I…” I looked over my shoulder, at my car. “Wait a moment…”

I jogged back to my car and opened the trunk, I had a quilt back there for emergencies. I picked it up and closed the trunk, before walking back to Ginger, who decided not to question me anymore. She simply turned around, telling me to follow her.

She led the way into the woods, right past the tree where I’d once seen a shovel propped against it. I wondered if this was the entry and exit point for all vampires under Eric’s protection.

We walked deeper into the forest than I imagined we would, we walked for at least twenty minutes. We finally came upon a clearing, well guarded from all sides by tall trees. Bobby Burnham stood up as we arrived, looking incredulously from Ginger to me and back. For a moment I thought he was going to protest my presence. His eyes dropped to the quilt I held against my chest and he finally sighed, walking towards us.

My eyes had dropped to a mound of dirt in the center of the clearing, and I knew then Eric lay beneath it.

“She wanted to come…” Ginger spoke before Mr. Burnham could. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer!” she added defensively.

I looked up from the dirt to Mr. Burnham as he nodded knowingly, his eyes again dropping to my quilt. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this? You’ll be here all day.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said without hesitation.

“Fine…” he said seriously before addressing Ginger. “Go back to the house. We’ll need food later. And so will he…” he nodded towards Eric’s grave.

I was faintly aware of Ginger walking away behind me as I stepped closer to the grave. Mr. Burnham moved in my peripheral, back to the spot where he was sat before.

“Here…” he flexed his hand to get my attention. “Sit here, Miss Stackhouse, please…”

I looked down to see he had been sitting on top of a tree stump. I walked over and took the seat, placing the quilt upon my legs, still staring at the grave with a deepening frown.

“What happened out there, Mr. Burnham?” I asked.

Mr. Burnham walked over to another spot on the ground and sat down. He wore dark, brown clothes, and he looked like he had been through a lot. He had dirt under his fingernails and on the sides of his face, his boots were caked in dirt. Behind him, propped up against a tree I could see the shovel, several bottles of water, and a rifle.

“I’m not sure I should be telling you anything, Miss Stackhouse. Perhaps I should let Mr. Northman, tell you.”

“Who else was in that warehouse? More of them…? A lot of them?  _ All _ of them?”

Mr. Burnham looked up at that and chuckled dryly. “D’you really think  _ all _ vampires on earth could fit in that old warehouse?” I shrugged. “No, it wasn’t all of them… just a lot of important ones.”

I nodded. “Eric’s friends…”

Mr. Burnham chuckled again. “That’s a strange word…  _ friends _ … I don’t think vampires make  _ friends _ …” he said with amusement as he stared at Eric’s grave. There was a curious expression on his face, as though he’d never contemplated the absurdity of vampires having friends before. “They have allies maybe… but I don’t think I’ve met one who would say the vampire they trusted the most was their friend!”

“Have you met a lot of them?” I frowned curiously.

Mr. Burnham looked up at me from his sitting place. He had a cryptic expression on his face, one of whom is weighing things in his head. After what felt like a long time he looked away and started speaking again.

“I’d say I’ve met quite a few of them in the last few decades…” he looked up at me curiously.

I stared back at him, frowning. He was trying to tell me something. Or maybe he was testing me. I didn’t know which. Finally it hit me – it was what he said… last few decades… he didn’t look older than 30… How many decades were we talking about?

“How many decades?” I asked promptly.

Mr. Burnham smiled slowly. “A few…”

I blinked. “Mr. Burnham I…”

“Save your questions for Mr. Northman…. This is what I can tell you… there was an attack on the Vampire Committee gathering in that warehouse. They attacked during the day because they knew vampires couldn’t simply up and leave in broad daylight. A lot of them died, some of them didn’t…” he looked away briefly, and a new, more somber expression took over his face. “And there’s going to be comeuppance for those who did it… of that I’m sure…”

He fell silent after that, staring into space in such deep concentration I didn’t want to interrupt. I looked away as well, resting my eyes upon the grave. I thought of those werewolves, digging up vampires in the middle of the woods and a shiver ran through me. At least I knew those two were dead… and they couldn’t hurt him. But what if there were others? Was this the reason why Mr. Burnham was here guarding him? It had to be. I looked at my companion again, to find him still lost in thought.

I wondered about him, and Ginger, and Dr. Ludwig, and Ruben, and I had to wonder if all humans who worked for vampires were glamoured to do so. I swallowed uncomfortably at the thought, and wrapped my arms around myself, feeling a chill coming from deep in the woods.

Hours passed. I wrapped the quilt around my shoulders. Ginger brought us food and water. More hours passed, the light changed – the shadows grew longer, the clearing grew darker. I felt my sleepless night more sharply now, as my eyes threatened to close every minute or so, and I suppressed a yawn.

I looked up at the sky hopefully at the sight of the first stars, and I checked my watch. It would be night soon, and I would get to see Eric.

There were sounds of steps coming from the direction of the house and both Mr. Burnham and I looked up in unison. While I wrapped the quilt tighter around me nervously, Mr. Burnham reached for his rifle.

But it was Ginger who appeared from between the trees, and we both sighed and relaxed. Behind her I saw a complete stranger enter the clearing.

It was a woman, tall, and lean, with long dark hair and pale gray eyes. Our eyes met, and she eyed me as uncertainly as I eyed her. She wore a long, dark coat, and in the wind I could smell her sweet perfume. I immediately understood why she was here, and my heart sunk. My mouth wanted to protest, but I couldn’t.

“Ah Ms De Santis…” Mr. Burnham sighed with relief. “We thank you for coming here…”

The woman smiled proudly, stepping closer. “I’ll do anything to help Master.”

I looked away uncomfortably. She was his willing donor, or his glamoured donor, I couldn’t tell the difference without my gift. I scrambled to my feet, with some discomfort due to being seated for so long, drawing attention to myself as I did so. I could feel the woman’s eyes trailing over me again. She probably wondered if I was here for the same reason as her and I smiled at her bitterly.

Ginger sidled up next to me. “Are you okay?” she asked me in a whisper.

“I’m fine…” I smiled tiredly. “It should be soon now, right?”

“Oh, yes…” Ginger said before looking furtively over the mound of dirt covering Eric’s grave.

The dirt had started to move, little flecks of dirt rolled in different directions, large hands broke through the soil and planted themselves firmly before they flexed and heaved. Eric rose from the ground with a straining grunt – dirt cascaded off of him in curtains. He lifted himself with surprising ease. Next we knew he was squatting outside the grave, heaving as one who made great effort. It was a moment before he stood to his full height, more dirt cascading down as he did so, from his hair, from his face and broad shoulders.

It was the strangest thing I had ever seen – it was like something out of a B horror movie. I would have run away as fast as I could if I hadn’t known it was coming, if it wasn’t Eric standing there in front of me.

He stood there, immobile in the dark, bare feet digging into the loose soil beneath him. He was naked from the waist up – he wore loose black slacks that were now stained in dirt –  and the moonlight painted him even paler than he was beneath the smears of dirt.

Eric swayed on his feet, raising his face to the sky as more dirt cascaded down his obscured face.

I frowned, wondering if he was still sick, if he wasn’t entirely healed yet. I tried to take a step closer but Ginger held me back, shaking her head.

Eric’s head snapped over to me when I gasped, and I could see his tinkling blue eyes staring at me from beneath a furrowed brow.

“Sookie…” he said raspily.

We stared at each other mutely. Ginger had her arms wrapped firmly around me or I would have walked to him, and held him. Eric stood where he was, still swaying, but his eyes were steady on mine.

From my peripheral I saw the woman approaching him cautiously, with Mr. Burnham behind her. Eric snapped his head towards them with a snarl, his nose wrinkling, his stance switching instantly into a defensive one. He hunched down, flexing his knees, with his legs wide apart.

But as she walked into plain view he changed almost as instantly – he clearly recognized her. He relaxed, his snarl faded and he straightened up with his customary inhuman grace. I could hear him inhaling her from where I stood.

“I am here Master….” The woman said sweetly, sweeping her hair to the side, baring her neck for him as she stepped closer.

Eric stared at her for a second, his head dropping to gaze at her offer. From where I stood I could see his eyes drooping and darkening with his hunger and I flinched when his fangs distended loudly in the quiet of the night.

I squirmed away from Ginger, and turned around, walking several steps into the woods, and away from that sight. I let the darkness engulf me and I wrapped the quilt tightly around me until I found a tree to lean on and I sighed, staring up at the sky through the naked branches of the trees.

It was a foolish jealousy. I couldn’t feed him, at least I didn’t think I could. Not when I was dying, when my blood was burning. But now that I knew what it felt like to be bitten, and what it did to me, I  _ knew _ how that woman felt, and I hated her for it. I could also remember what biting me did to  _ Eric _ , and I too knew how he felt now – and I hated him too.

Minutes passed in which I was there alone, though I could hear humming, indistinguishable voices. I imagined one of them would come and fetch me soon. I hoped it would be Ginger.

But when I heard movement coming from the opposite direction my heart skipped and I pulled away from the tree, my head snapping towards the sounds while I tried to stay still, straining my eyes against the dark – thinking of werewolves, and of the vampire that had been watching me the night before.

“It’s only a bobcat…” Eric’s voice assured me somewhere behind me.

I turned around, my heart rate slowing down with relief. Eric crept quietly towards me. My eyes dropped to his large feet on the ground and I batted my eyes repeatedly, surprised someone as big as him could be so quiet. When he stood in front of me I swallowed, and rolled my eyes upwards, past his dirty slacks and pale torso smudged with dirt. He’d wiped his face mostly clean and I sighed at the sight of his handsome, chiseled face – his unnaturally glowing blue eyes gazing back into mine – he’d fed, there was color to his cheeks, but his eyes were surprisingly clear. I could still see his fangs, thankfully there was no visible blood on them.

“It’s gone away now…” Eric told me, his eyes flitting briefly over my shoulder before returning to mine. “You’ve guarded me all day…” he cocked his head to the side.

“I was told you were hurt!” I said defensively.

Eric smiled, it was a feline one. He took one step forward and he was suddenly  _ too _ close. I craned my neck up as he slanted his head towards me, his eyes drooping slightly as he inhaled me, a purr erupting from him as one hand swept my hair behind my shoulder and I shivered in anticipation. But he only dropped to run the tip of his nose up the length of my neck, purring softly.

“I wish it had been  _ you _ …” he told me, nuzzling the juncture of my shoulder and neck.

My heart thumped loudly now, his closeness was tempting, but I knew I couldn’t let myself be swayed by whatever it was that drew me to him. I was dying.

“Eric…” I found my voice at last, and pushed my hands against his cool chest lightly.

Eric pulled back, his cloudy eyes clearing as he blinked them down at me, his fingers still playing with my hair.

“What happened?” I asked after a moment. “Who did  _ that _ to you?”

My question seemed to sober him up, it seemed remind him of what had happened. Eric straightened up, looking suddenly very serious. His eyes scanned the landscape around us for a moment before he looked back at me.

“Not here. Let’s get back to the house.”

I nodded, letting him take my hand and lead me back. We hadn’t walked ten yards when Eric hooked his arm under my knees and swept me into his arms to carry me back at inhuman speed. He moved so suddenly and so fast, I was jostled in his arms, like and unstrapped toddler in a speeding car.  I buried my face into his chest against the whipping wind, my arms wrapping around his shoulders so tight, were he human, he would have complained.

When he put me on my feet again we were somewhere inside the house, and I swayed on my feet a little as I held onto his arm, with another hand on my stomach to ascertain myself I wasn’t going to be sick.

“We’re home…” he told me gently, landing a steadying hand on the small of my back.

I batted my eyes as I looked around the unfamiliar room. It was dimly lit, like every room in the house. There was a large, four-poster bed in the center – there were furs and books everywhere. As I moved to walk around it became clear I was seeing Eric’s bedroom for the first time. There were almost as many books in his room as there were in his private library, there were stacks of them everywhere. But something different drew my eyes away from them. There was a beautiful, broadsword with a carved hilt mounted upon the wall above the fireplace – it looked very much real, and not like silly replicas boys had in their rooms back then.

“Dr. Ludwig told me you were a Viking… is it true?” I asked him over my shoulder.

Eric nodded quietly, watching me in his stillness as I walked further into the room looking around and taking it all in. I could see a desk full of notebooks and pens.

“Do you really sleep here?” I turned around to face him. Eric had moved to the stand before the large bed – in the light I could see how dirty he was, it didn’t seem to bother him. “And how often do you uhm…” my eyes trailed over him. “Sleep in the dirt like that?”

“I really do…” Eric paused narrowing his eyes as he seemed to consider his words. “… _ sleep _ here…” he smiled a little. “And not often, not unless threatened. I also have  a safe room in the basement where I can retire if I fear up here isn’t safe enough.”

“Ginger says sleeping underground helps you heal?” I frowned.

Eric nodded minimally. “When we are turned we must remain buried for three days – it is what we understand part of a rebirth of sorts… whatever makes us possible… it has to do with organic things… there’s nothing more organic than nature…” he smiled.

I blinked at him “ _ Whatever _ makes you possible? You mean in over a thousand years you haven’t found out  _ what _ makes you possible?”

Eric smirked. “After a thousand years you come to accept you won’t understand  _ everything _ …”

I considered that for a moment, and shrugged. “I suppose so… it’s a bit… unsettling though…” I watched as he crept closer again. “I thought maybe you could finally tell me if God is real…”

Eric’s little smirk softened as he stared down at me. “Not a religious person?”

I shrugged. “My parents were… my Gran… me…?” I shook my head. “I had very little time for religion when I started hearing voices every Christian and their mother would promise me I couldn’t possibly hear…” I snorted.

Eric smiled again, his fingers threading into my hair once more. “Do you still miss the voices?”

I looked down between us with mild embarrassment. “Yeah… strangely I do…”

Eric cupped my chin and lifted my eyes to his, he looked at me gravely. “But you feel well now… don’t you?”

His question paralyzed me for a moment. I remembered Barry Horowitz and I suppressed a shudder before nodding my head. I reached up with both hands around his sides and I tried to be the comforting one instead as I smiled up at him.

“Tell me what happened to you… I saw the fire on the news…”

Eric heaved a sigh, which I was sure was a practiced gesture, since he didn’t have to breathe at all. His hands  dropped to his sides and his eyes looked serious again.

“Werewolves did that.”

“Werewolves?” I gasped taking a step back. “You mean there are more of them?”

Eric smirked bitterly. “Oh yes, many of them. They are definitely larger in numbers although they organize in considerably small, loyal packs. Unlike us, they can hide in plain sight… and in broad daylight…” Eric turned away from me and walked to the windows and pulled the heavy blackout curtains away. “Lycanthropy is a different type of transformation. Werewolves are normally in human form – the  _ full moon _ forces them to shift…but only the full moon can force them to give in. Any other time they turn it’s out of their own free will and it is understood their actions are more manageable, less… feral…”

I watched the moon outside, thankfully it was  a crescent moon night and I sighed with relief.

“Meaning they plotted to burn down that warehouse…” I deduced. “Why?”

“When vampires start coming out and telling the world at large we exist… what do you think could happen then?” Eric questioned me.

It was obvious even to me. “Everyone will start questioning what else is real.” Eric nodded. “They don’t want that.” Eric shook his head. “This is horrible…”

“A lot of my allies died last night…” Eric walked closer to me, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath us, his jaw set, his brow creased. “…others fled and might not have survived…”

I swallowed. “Was Pam there?”

Eric’s eyes flitted up to me, they were hard. “No…” he said, though by the tone of his voice I could tell he was contemplating the alternative. “Fortunately not…”

I swallowed again. “What happens now?”

“We end them…” Eric said simply turning away. “And unlike them we will be thorough.”

“But…” I took a tentative step forward, wringing my hands anxiously. “Not all of you were there… right? Only the… important ones?”

Eric looked at me over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow. “Yes… why?”

“You wouldn’t… have happened to... uhm…” I started tapping my foot nervously. “.. you wouldn’t have happened to send one of your friends to watch me… would you?”

Eric was still for a moment, watching me, then he was in front of me, his brow furrowed even deeper. “What happened?” he asked me, clasping his hands around my hips.

“So that’s a no?” I frowned with dismay. “I thought so…” I dropped my eyes with a sigh.

“Tell me…” Eric shook me a little.

I looked up at him and shrugged. “There was a vampire outside my house last night… I’d seen him earlier outside the bar I was in with my friends… he was just there staring at me…” I sighed. “Then I saw him through my bedroom window across the street…”

“Did he speak to you?” Eric asked.

“No… he… waved though…”

Eric’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“Are you  _ sure _ you didn’t send anyone to watch me?” I insisted hopefully.

“I’ve kept you away from all of my kind so far. What do you think?” Eric asked, almost impatiently before he moved away to start to pace in front of me. “Describe him.”

“Uhm…” I batted my eyes, trying to remember his face. “… he had dark, curly hair… uhm… tall… well… not  _ you tall _ , but tall… he had… green eyes, I think… large green eyes… he was… uhm… very thin… I think… large nose?” I looked up to see if I’d helped at all.

Eric was still pacing but he seemed to nod. “Franklin…”

“Who’s… who’s that?”

“He’s new…” Eric nearly growled. “He’s not welcome here…” he turned to me so quickly I jumped. “Did anyone else notice him?”

“Amelia…”

Eric nodded. “You said he was watching you in particular?”

“Well… he did follow me home and… waved at me!”

“He must have smelled me on you.”

“He… what?” I made a face. “You people can do that?”

“You’ve had my blood… you carry my scent.”

“Oh…” I didn’t know how I felt about that.

Eric’s eyes trailed over me as he looked thoughtful. “No matter… what is one more dead vampire after all?”

I blinked up at him. “Are you going to kill him?”

“Yes.”

“ _ Why _ ? Can’t you just tell him to stay away?”

“I wouldn’t trust him to obey.” Eric said simply. “And he knows now who you are. He could tell others about you, and others would try to take you from me.”

“Why?”

“Because of your blood Sookie… and I don’t even want to imagine what they would do to have you if they learned of your gift…” he looked suddenly very glum. “It is best it was taken away…” he finished as he was trying to convince himself it was true.

I stared back at him sadly, my shoulders sagging. I couldn’t agree with him – not knowing what I knew about Barry. Forcing myself to leave that subject for another time I walked up to him, wrapping my hands around his arms and smiling up at him.

“Can we… talk about killing people later? You’re all dirty… let me take care of you…”

Eric’s expression softened almost instantly and a sly smile spread across his face. “Why, my lover… I am all yours…”

I smiled back, running my fingers through his dirty, matted hair – more flecks of dirt cascaded off of him, landing on the  floor beneath us. “Let’s clean you up then…”

Eric grasped my hand and lead me to his ensuite bathroom, which was larger than the one in my room. I quietly went about, getting the hot water to run and grabbing towels, my mind still threatening to go back to sad, ominous corners. But I put that off, so I could take care of him the way he took care of me before.

 


	9. Chapter 9

I sat outside in the garden the next day. I found an empty wooden cart, like the ones I’d seen the gardeners using to remove dry leaves and I wiped off the moisture before I sat down. It had been a cold, dull and wet day.

The sun was already heading down as I lit another cigarette and frowned, staring off into space – thinking about my afternoon of fruitless phone calls that yielded me nothing.

I had tried to find Barry Horowitz’s Aunt and Uncle, going so far as to call the  _ Chronicle _  for information, dodging questions about my well-being and whether or not I would try to apply for a new job with the paper. I was given the couple’s old phone number, but I found out it had been disconnected. I couldn’t find them on the phone book. I was also given the phone number for Mr. Horowitz’s former place of employment – a paper distribution center – but all I found out was that he had quit in 1978, the same year Barry had died, and no one there ever heard from him again.

The trail had cooled off – I had nothing to follow. All I had now were Doctor Ludwig’s demon blood concoctions. I wasn’t sure how soon I’d need another one.

I felt fine, although I often felt too warm.

I had stayed overnight, after calling Amelia and making up some lie about crashing in my brother’s house.

Eric was good as new, and I watched him as he conducted some business over the phone while I sat in an armchair in the library. At times he spoke in a different language – it was completely new to me – his voice also sounded different… but I did definitely hear the name  _ Franklin _ . Then Mr. Burnham returned, saying he had found Ruben. Both of them disappeared for a whole hour after that and when Eric returned, he told me Ruben had been attacked by the werewolves who set fire to the warehouse – and nearly died himself. He didn’t tell my anything more that night, insisting instead that we went to bed.

I was easily distracted by his expert attentions – I didn’t tell him anything about Barry, even when he sensed something was troubling me. I basked in his talented caresses, and stroked him and held him to me as I fell asleep. After everything he had been through I suddenly didn’t want to add to his troubles, or perhaps I just didn’t want to face my own.

But now that my search had been fruitless I would have to tell him – and I would have to ask him to bring Doctor Ludwig back, and perhaps beg the little doctor to help me before it was too late.

Movement in my peripheral forced me out of my thoughts and I batted my eyes over to my right, noticing Ruben walking from the gates in the direction of his little cabin. He looked to be healthy and moved with no difficulty. I frowned curiously, thinking about how he was supposed to have been nearly killed. Had he been given Eric’s blood too?

“Oh I wish you would abandon these disgusting death sticks…”

I jerked with a start and then rolled my eyes at my own silliness, looking over my shoulder as Eric strolled casually around the cart and into view. The sun was barely gone – I could still see so many warm hues in the sky and yet there he was, one of his long house coats draped over his broad shoulders, unbuttoned at the front – the pale skin of his chest glowed almost gold in this light. He had his long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, rebel strands framed his face as he looked down at me, eyes glinting.

“We all die someday…” I shrugged as he looked at the cigarette dangling from between my fingers.

Eric rolled his eyes. “That is the most juvenile excuse humans have come up with.”

“It’s easy for you to say… you can’t die!” I retorted, annoyed.

Eric reached out and plucked my cigarette out of my hand, crushing it in his hand, caring nothing for the fact it was lit, before he tossed the remains somewhere off to the side. I gaped at him, perplexed.

“I absolutely  _ can _  die…” he said. “Two nights ago I nearly did,” he reminded me, but a moment later the frown smoothed off his forehead and he smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up in what was his typically smug smirk. “These awful things can ruin your taste, and your scent.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but Eric was now looking upwards at the sky, still smiling. I let my eyes trail down the exposed skin of his chest and for a moment I wondered what he’d been like as a man, living under the sun over a thousand years earlier – a Viking… the idea was still so absurd, yet Eric was very real, and I had no trouble imagining him as a great fearsome warrior.

“Doesn’t it bother you at all?” I asked curiously, shaking my head to push away those strange thoughts.

“It tickles a little…” Eric said turning to stare towards the horizon, where the big orange ball was now merely visible. “I couldn’t stand the midday sun, that is for sure…”

“Did you give Ruben your blood?” I asked, cocking my head to the side as I watched him curiously.

Eric looked at me, over his shoulder, and arched an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?” he turned fully around.

“I saw him… he didn’t look like he was dying…” I shrugged my shoulders. “It made me wonder… knowing what your blood can do… and seeing how loyal these people are to you…”  I narrowed my eyes curiously, Eric was simply watching me back, waiting to see where I was going with this. “ _ How _  are they so loyal to you Eric? Don’t get me wrong I… trust you but… if your secrets are so important… how do you know you can trust people ever…?”

Eric narrowed his eyes at me but he was still smiling. “Sookie wishes to know if I enslave them with my blood? If I glamour them into doing my will?”

I shrugged, deciding to speak honestly. “The first time I was here, when I could still  _ hear _  people… I knew there was something different about Ginger’s mind… it felt… different… distant, confused… later I met Miss Burrell and she felt just as strange… I know now that they felt like that because you glamoured them.”

Eric watched me silently for a moment – the sky behind him was much darker now. “Care to take a stroll around my dead garden with me?” he thrust out his hand for me.

I blinked at him, wondering if he was going evade me. I placed my hand into his and allowed him to help me onto my feet. We started walking, Eric kept my hand in his – we walked for about ten feet before he spoke again.

“Miss Burrell’s mind was wiped for her own good...”

“And your  _ own _ …” I interrupted him. “She’d met Liam…”

Eric squeezed my hand patiently and I fell quiet again.

“Ginger’s mind is not my responsibility… I assume if anyone could have glamoured her at the time, it would have been Liam. Ginger is free to feed and entertain anyone she wants as long as she remembers she is loyal to me. She is not my pet, but she works for me.”

“ _ Pet _ ?” I quirked an eyebrow. “Is that what you call humans who feed you? Is that what that woman in the clearing was? Is that what  _ I _  am? I’ve been called pet before!”

Eric stopped walking altogether and he turned to me with a hard, searching frown. “You are  _ not _  a pet.”

I looked at him dubiously. “But that woman is… does she even know what she is doing? Do all of them call you  _ master?”  _ I sneered, my annoyance coming through again.

Eric rolled his eyes impatiently and turned away from me, letting go of my hand. I could see the sudden tension in his shoulders but I stood my ground, staring at his back and waiting for him to give me answers.

“Ms De Santis does know what she is doing, she is  _ happy _  to feed me.” He answered turning back to me with irritation.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and jutted out my chin. “Among other things…?”

His eyes hardened and his jaw tightened before he took a step toward me. “I did not touch her last night.”

“Why not?”

“Because she isn’t you,” he nearly growled, clearly getting more impatient with me.

I blinked, sagging a little as undeniable relief spread through me. I had to look away, however, as he was still staring hard at me.

“That’s…” I cast about for the right words. “…nice to hear…” I finally faced him again, attempting a little smile.

Eric glared back, quietly. I sighed.

“Very well…  _ why _  is she happy to do it? Why are Ginger and Mr. Burman and Ruben all so happy to  _ help _  a vampire?”

“Because I pay them.”

“Is that all?”

“No… that is not all…” Eric admitted. “I did give Ruben my blood to heal and yes it does keep him loyal, it also allows me to always know where he is, which is also for  _ my _  safety. In return he has my money and my protection and I promise you he is very happy with his life, as are Ginger and Mr. Burnham.”

“How long have they been with you?” was my next question.

Eric blinked back at me curiously, as if he could tell I had been waiting for the chance to ask this question – and I had.

“A few decades…” Eric said quietly. “Mr. Burnham has been with me the longest, for fifty-six years.”

I blinked back at him. “He doesn’t look old enough to have worked that long…”

Eric smirked again. “A loyal employee is hard to come by Sookie… I like keeping them around.”

“How?”

“Vampire blood can prolong a human’s lifespan, it can preserve their youth to a point. Mr. Burnham is now eighty years old. He is alone, when I met him he had lost his young wife to disease and his children were taken into foster care because he was deemed incapable of looking after them. I employed him and I helped him, and he was able to provide for his children from afar. His loyalty goes deeper than blood.”

I stared back at him mutely. Mr. Burnham’s words to me the previous day made sense.

“Oh…”

“My world may not seem clean to you Sookie, but even monsters have codes and honor… the people who work for me are loyal because they are compensated.”

I stepped forward, detecting the hurt in his tone. I frowned apologetically and reached to grip the sides of his coat. “You’re not a monster…”

“I can be…” he admitted.

“So can I…” I shrugged. “So can anyone…”

Eric chortled darkly, nodding and looking away for a moment. “That is undeniable, my Sookie.”

I stepped closer still and wrapped my arms around him, resting my cheek against his chest, content when he easily folded me into his arms. He inhaled into my hair and tightened his hold around me.

“Will you tell me what has been troubling you now?” he asked me after a moment. “I’ve felt you all day…” he pushed me away slightly so he could look at my face. “You haven’t returned to your house and happy as that makes me it also tells me you are troubled…” he ran his knuckles down my jaw. “Tell me, Sookie…”

I squirmed a little, standing there, my own personal turmoil returning and pushing my concerns with right and wrong and jealousy to the back of my mind. I realized, every time I tried opening my mouth to speak about it, I didn’t want to – because it made everything  _ real _ .

Eric frowned harder  at my hesitation, he wrapped his hands around my arms as I had slowly started squirming away from him. “What is it?” he insisted.

I didn’t think there was a way to be less dramatic – not with a vampire.

“I’m dying…”

 

Three hours later, Dr. Ludwig was leaving my room, accompanied by a grave-looking Eric, while I sat at the foot of the bed and ran my tongue over the inside of my mouth, making a face and shuddering at the thick, sour taste of my demon blood concoction. The doctor had said it would keep me strong for a little bit longer.

I told Eric everything – from my trip to the library and my perusal of the microfiche, to finding out about Barry Horowitz and looking for him to find out he had died and how. I half expected him to tell me I was too quick to draw my conclusions, but he hadn’t. Eric had looked very serious. When I told him I had been trying to find his relatives, Eric asked me for their names. After that he called for Dr. Ludwig, who was then told the very same story.

The little doctor too looked very serious. She said she had never been called to help anyone by the name of Barry, but I’d suspected as much.

She examined me and decided to give me another dose, even though I was feeling pretty stable. She couldn’t promise me my fate would be different from Barry’s yet, but she promised me to keep her eyes on me if I did as  I was told.

I didn’t argue, Eric wouldn’t have let me. He stood in the room with us the whole time.

Now, alone in the room, I was allowed a moment to breathe for myself. I fell back against the soft mattress and stared at the canopy. I could  _ feel _  the thick liquid spreading through me – it was strange – I couldn’t remember feeling it so acutely before. Perhaps I was simply suggestible.

Barry Horowitz had died within four months of his encounter with a demon. I had encountered Desmond Cataliades on Halloween – it was January the 24 th , I had little over a month to live by that estimate.

I closed my eyes, swallowing the last of the residue of the blood as I took deep, calming breaths. Perhaps now I could go back to pretending none of this was happening again. I was luckier than Barry, Barry could barely function – with Dr. Ludwig’s help, I could, perhaps I would until the very last-minute?

“Don’t lie there like that…”

I opened my eyes to find Eric staring down at me with a frown. I batted my eyes at him, wondering what he meant. I sighed deeply.

“I’m not dead yet…” I croaked.

“Nor will you be…” Eric said with certainty. He offered me his hand. “Come… you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Maybe  I should go home…” I said as I let him haul me to my feet.

“No…” Eric interrupted me sharply. “You’re staying here, where I can watch you.”

I smiled at him. “What will I tell Amelia?”

“I don’t care… but you’re not leaving,” he said with finality.

My smile dropped as I detected the tension in him. I sighed and I stood on the tip of my toes and clasped my hands around his face.

“You really do like me, don’t you?”

Eric blinked at me in confusion. “Have you only just now realized that?” he gruffed.

I laughed. “It just… amuses me…”

“Well… let’s stop with the silly talk… you have to eat.” He muttered uncomfortably before he grasped my hands  and pushed them down.

I kept my smile, even more amused that I embarrassed him. I loved that Eric’s attentions could distract me so easily. I was no longer thinking about dying – I was thinking about how sweet it was to be cared for so diligently.

I did as he asked. I stayed in the Landry House. I returned to the house I shared with Amelia while she was out and I packed a few things, I left her a note, as vague a note as I could come up with and then I returned.

Eric let me stay in my old room, saying he understood I could be uncomfortable lying in bed with a dead vampire – he would retreat from my room at dawn and go into his, but after the second night, when he pulled away from me, to get off my bed, I held his hand.

“Can I come with you?” I asked him sleepily.

Eric stared at me speechlessly for a moment. “You would want that?”

I nodded, smiling reassuringly. “I would… if… if you don’t mind that is…” I narrowed my eyes, remembering what he had told me about trust when it came to a vampire’s resting place. “If you trust me… that is…”

I could see him trying to control his happiness, but after a moment he smiled widely, and tugged at my hand, nearly causing me to fall off the bed, but he caught me and we laughed. He placed me on my feet and we walked together to his room, which had special locks that would lock automatically from the inside. We snuck under the covers of his bed  and I watched curiously as he slipped into downtime. I knew he would be like that for hours, but I watched him anyway, fascinated, until I fell asleep myself.

 

I knew that moment would arrive. The moment in which Eric would want to discuss turning me. It took place on the third night, after he returned from doing whatever it was he had been doing – at the time I suspected he was gathering his remaining vampires to go after the werewolves who had caused the fire.

I was sitting in the library, late at night, being accustomed by then to sleeping almost through the day. I was reading another pointless book about fairy lore when he walked into the room.

I looked up, surprised. He looked disheveled, and wild. He’d cut his hair, which I knew meant he planned to be among humans. His clothes however, were now torn and soaked with a dark liquid in places. I shivered as I detected the unmistakable smell of blood.

“Oh my God…” I sprung to my feet, closing the large book and tossing aside. “Is that yours?” my eyes trailed over him.

Eric stalked towards me, his eyes seemed to be on fire. “No,” he promised me.

“Oh…” I smiled and sighed with relief just as he reached me.

I gasped with surprise when he yanked me towards him and crushed my mouth beneath his, his fingers gripping me tight, arms banding around me, and his fanged mouth desperate and demanding. I was quickly out of breath, and Eric pulled away with a content purr.

“Jesus…” I breathed.

Eric dropped his forehead to mine, and his touch suddenly changed, his hands smoothed up my arms to cradle my face gently  - he tilted my head upwards so I could see his eyes. They were perilously dark, his cheeks were flushed, he’d fed. I understood all the blood then, and I shivered again.

“What happened to you?” I asked gently, my hands brushing up his chest, trying to avoid the blood stains.

“We’ve been hunting…” he said in a silky smooth voice, and his eyes dropped to my neck and below, one of his hands slid down my front and palmed my breast on its way down to my hip.

It was my first contact with bloodlust. A vampire after battle, or upon waking after a long time without being fed can be a dangerous thing. Eric had told me about it, but this was my first time witnessing it, and I couldn’t help swallowing a little nervously as I peered at his still distended fangs. A rumble broke out of him, like a purr.

“Eric…” I breathed, cupping his neck. “Can you uhm… come back to me?” I asked, searching his eyes that were still raking over my body, his fingers digging into my hip and fingers brushing along the side of my neck.

Eric batted his eyes upwards towards mine, and the constant purr in his chest stopped. His hand at my hip became gentle, and the one cupping my throat moved to caress the side of my face.

“Don’t be scared… I would never hurt you… not even like this.”

I smiled, feeling a happy flutter inside. “I  know…” I lied.

Eric’s eyes glinted at me, and he smirked, his fangs still visible. “Of course you do.”

“Whose blood is this?” I asked uncomfortably, staring at the stains on his clothes.

Eric stepped back, tugging at the soaked material with disgust. “Werewolf blood…”

“Oh… did you… did you drain them?” I asked with a shiver.

Eric scoffed. “Werewolf blood? No, Sookie, we do not feed on their blood… it’s no better than feeding on rats…” He stepped back removing his jacket and shirt at the same time.

“But you’ve fed…” I narrowed my eyes curiously as I followed his movements.

Eric looked up at me suddenly arching an eyebrow. “Does that upset you?”

I shrugged. “I guess I can’t be upset, can I…? It’s not like you can feed on me…” my eyes dropped to the floor between us.

I heard the sound of more clothes being discarded and tossed on the floor. Suddenly Eric was in front of me again, tilting my head back up.

“I would love nothing more than to drink from you…”

I smiled. “I know…” and that I  _ did _  know.

Eric suddenly became serious. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

“Oh…?” I looked up at him, suddenly uncertain again. “It looks serious…”

“It is very serious…” Eric looked down and grasped both my hands in his. “Bathe with me?”

I arched my eyebrows curiously. “Is that serious?”

Eric shook his head. “No… we’ll get to it.”

We went upstairs together and Eric drew a bath for us. He didn’t really talk at all. We washed each other and held each other, and just relaxed in the hot water. Then we stepped out and I tucked myself into a soft robe and followed Eric to his room.

“What is it?” I could feel his tension as we sat down in front of the fire.

“Sookie what if there really is no permanent cure for you?” Eric asked. “What then?”

I stared at him for a long moment. I knew what he was going to ask me. I couldn’t answer him, so I stared at the fire. I could feel him watching me.

“I want to turn you,” he said at last, when I didn’t speak.

I shook my head, tears brimming in my eyes but I didn’t look away from the crackling flames.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how to be anything else other than human!” I turned to face him and I sniffed loudly. My heart was aching – I knew this would come up, and I didn’t know how to feel. The hurt I saw in Eric’s eyes made me hurt even more. “I’ve spent the last 10 years or so, trying to learn how to be the crazy girl who hears voices…” I continued. “I don’t think I can change more… and… not be able to be in the sun? And… drink  _ blood _ ?” I shook my head vehemently. “I can’t…”

“You can adapt, Sookie…” Eric scooted closer to me as I continued to shake my head. “Listen…” he cupped my face between his large hands. “…listen to me.”

I bit my lip and tried to stop bawling like a baby. I sniffled noisily again and nodded obediently, staring at his eyes with what I was sure was a haunted expression.

“Wouldn’t you have given anything to have kept your loved ones with you? Your parents, your grandmother?” he asked.

I shook my head as new tears sprung. Yes I would, I would have given anything to keep them with me. But…

“But I…”

“ _ Answer me _ …” he demanded.

“ _ Yes…”  _ I admitted. “… yes, of course I would have.”

Eric smiled, hope shining through his eyes. “Then you know how I feel…”

I tilted my head as best as I could, given he was still cradling my face. I reached up with my hands to tug at his own. “I’m sorry…”

“You are meant for more than this, Sookie…” Eric said fiercely, his eyes becoming darker. “You’re a goddess, a child of the  _ sky fae _ , you lived through so much, wielding a demon gift and you survived, you were  _ strong _ ! Are you going to let  _ him _  destroy you…?”

_ Him _ … My ears prickled and my blood boiled. I could feel my heart hammering faster.

_ Him _ … Desmond Cataliades. What I wouldn’t give to meet him again, to confront him, to demand he tell me why he did it!

My eyes dropped between us as I frowned hard – my breathing became labored. I let go of his wrists and my hands dropped to my lap. Eric leaned forward and pressed his cool lips to my heated brow. I closed my eyes and sighed with relief. I could feel my heart slowing down and my breathing going back to normal.

“You could spend eternity at my side…” Eric continued in his soft voice. “I could teach you how to be a vampire… you could be magnificent my little fairy… I know you could…”

I lifted my eyes again and he was smiling proudly at me. I smiled back.

“You are very tempting, Eric…” I admitted weakly.

Eric’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “No more than you… you have me in the palm of your hand.”

I frowned at his confession and I leapt forward, covering his mouth with mine, taking his face between my hands. I kissed him reverently, lovingly, wishing I could so easily give myself to him – so that he could turn me. I felt thoroughly loved in that moment and safer than I had ever felt.

But I was still me, and I was still… afraid.

Eric’s fingers  grabbed onto my hair and he pushed me on my back against the fur, caging my body beneath his as he kissed me passionately – the click of his fangs as they snapped thrilled me and my hands moved to tug into his hair as well.

“Say yes, Sookie…” Eric pleaded, grazing his fangs across my bottom lip, dragging another shiver from me.

I swallowed and pulled his mouth to mine and kissed him, my tongue playing with his sharp fangs, making  _ him _  shiver and purr.

“Sookie…” he growled, tearing his mouth away from mine and wrapping a hand around my throat and pushing me back against the rug to still me, his eyes relentless on mine. “What is your answer?” he demanded again.

I swallowed. “I… I don’t know… I can promise you I’ll think about it.”

Eric’s eyes drooped and I could see him sagging slightly, but after a moment, his grip around my throat softened and he nodded.

“Think fast…” he added softly I nodded. “I can’t lose you.”

I reached up to trace the lines of his perfect face with my fingers. “Well you have me here, right now…” I smirked. “Want to do something about it?”

Eric growled playfully before covering my mouth with his again, and for that night we spoke no longer of such grave matters.

But that night meant the world to me. To have Eric’s devotion was a revelation. One that would change many things.

 

Dr. Ludwig’s newest concoction kept me stable and strong, to the point I was almost myself. I still felt hot, but not unbearably hot. For the first week I spent in Eric’s house, I could almost be fooled into thinking I had imagined all of my fears.

We spent as much time together as possible. Eric didn’t tell me the details of what had happened that night with the werewolves at that time – I didn’t want them. But I knew he had settled whatever score needed to be settled, and it seemed peace had been somewhat restored.

We talked a lot about the nature of vampires then. Eric told me why it was so important he kept me away from others of his kind. He told me his treatment of me was unusual – his affection for me was dangerous to us both. Vampires never fully trusted each other, unless they were bound by blood – maker and progeny. Everyone else was an ally, at best, and never forever… for a vampire forever was too long a time.

It was why he was decided on destroying Franklin Mott. He had followed me, he had probably smelled Eric on me, and he might suspect I meant more to him than I should. But Eric couldn’t find him, and it made him restless.

He also told me more about vampires and their progenies. He told me vampires rarely stayed together in amorous relationships – because they lived for too long, they grew bored with monogamy, they felt the need to walk alone. It was why Pam was no longer at his side in a permanent manner – he told me.

I asked if that meant, were he to turn me, would we someday grow bored with each other and part ways too.

“I can’t promise we will always want to be together… not even humans can make such promises in their short lifespans…” he had told me sincerely. “But what we will have as maker and progeny goes deeper than any human bond,” he added intensely. “No amount of distance will ever change that. I promise.”

That seemed a very farfetched idea – but also a romantic one.  I supposed, if I couldn’t really spend eternity at Eric’s side, having part of him with me when we were apart would be enough.

I asked him if I would meet Pam soon. He promised me if I agreed to be turned, I would see plenty of Pam. I’d laughed, thinking it rather ominous – Eric had not corrected me, he’d merely grinned.

 

On January 31 st , Eric took me with him to an event at city hall. It was something political. Something he needed to do in preparation for the revelation. As curious as I was about that, I was just happy to get out of enclosure for a bit. I got to wear a pretty dress, and walk around at the arm of the most handsome man present. Eric only took me with him because he was going to be the only vampire there.

It was strange being there again, after having such bad memories attached to the place, but when Eric invited me, I couldn’t say no, as I had been in the house for a whole week. It was strange to be there as a guest. I accompanied Eric, stayed silent as he talked to important people, no one recognized me, it seemed. It deflated me a little. It made me miss working for the  _ Chronicle _ , it made me miss having that job and doing things.

At one point in the evening I excused myself to go to the powder room. On my way out, just as I was walking by the bar I nearly collided with someone.

“Oh, excuse me!” the man stepped back with embarrassment.

I looked up at Richard Burns. Well,  _ déjà vu _ …

We both froze, staring at one another. We had last seen each other in this very same venue, exactly three months earlier.

“Sookie…?” Richard Burns blurted, his eyes trailing over me in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

I blinked at him. He seemed perplexed,  _ I _ , a mere no one without a job could have reason to be present at an important event. I squared my shoulders and cocked my head to the side.

“I’m a guest here!” I smiled.

It was his turn to bat his eyes repeatedly. “Oh…?” he looked around, in confusion.

So it wasn’t entirely true. I wasn’t the guest, I was a guest’s plus one, but he needn’t know that. We stared at each other a moment longer. I kept expecting him to maybe ask me how I was doing, but he didn’t. So I just rolled my eyes and excused myself, marching away – jealous of his job all over again.

I found Eric and he touched the small of my back, pulling me closer as he turned us around to introduce me to someone. From over the woman’s shoulder, I could see Burns. He had spotted me too. His eyes flitted between Eric and me, and he seemed to quickly understand everything. He smiled meaningfully at me, touching the side of his nose and winking. I clenched my jaw and cocked my nose, looking away from him altogether.

In the car on the way home, Eric wanted to know what had upset me.

“Richard Burns…” I’d growled.

“Who?”

“Richard Burns! He’s a former colleague… I was with him the night of Halloween! He hates me!” I paused. “Well… we hate each other, I guess.” I shrugged. “It was just… hard… seeing him there… all… professional and on the job while I…” I shrugged, shaking my head. “Oh what does it matter…” I folded my arms and stared out the window, clenching my teeth again.

Eric was silent for a moment. “He is nothing, Sookie. A petty journalist at best.”

I looked around at him, smiling. “Really?”

Eric grasped my hand and kissed it. “I promise…”

I grinned. “I like you… you’re so accommodating…”

“Oh, I can be…” he looked at me seductively.

Again, he easily distracted me from my troubles. Soon we were kissing and touching in the back of the car and before we knew it, we were home. We scrambled out of the car laughing and climbed the front steps as Ruben drove the car away. Eric unlocked the door and we stumbled in, trying to get rid of each other’s clothes in the process.

Then suddenly Eric stopped, still holding me and I blinked my eyes up at him curiously.

“What’s wrong?” I  frowned at the strange look on his face.

Eric let go of me, his shoulders tense – he turned to look towards the staircase, I could clearly hear him sniffing the air.

“Eric…?” I called uncertainly.

He whipped his head around abruptly, but not to face me, to look at the door, almost as if he could see through it. I looked over my shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s coming… I hear cars…” Eric stalked past me and yanked at the curtains of the nearest window. He growled. “Police.”

“What…?” I strode over to stand next to him and peer outside, but I couldn’t see them yet. “Are you sure?”

Eric grabbed my arm and pulled me back – I looked up at him startled, he looked tense, he was in battle mode, I could tell, it made me uneasy. As he marched us towards the door to the library, I noticed him glancing towards the staircase again.

“Wait in the library… don’t come out until I say so…” Eric ordered, yanking the door open for me.

“Why…?”

“Just do it… and lock both doors.” He said before he closed the door between us.

I stood there staring at the large wooden door completely confused. I rushed to do as he asked me, locking first the door he had just pushed me through and then going across the room to lock the one that opened into the corridor. The I marched towards the French windows behind the large desk and pulled at the curtain to peek outside.

I could see just as the patrol car pulled up in front of the house. I padded over to the door and glued my ear to its surface. Moments later the bell rang, and Eric moved to answer. I strained my ears to hear their muffled voices.

_ “Officers…” _  he greeted them evenly.  _ “What can I do for you tonight?” _

_ “Mr. Northman, good evening… I’m not sure you’ll remember us. I’m detective Crane, this is Deputy Pierce…” _

_ “Of course I remember you…” _  Eric replied amiably.  _ “Would you like to come in?” _

There were shuffling sounds and the door closed. I hurried to listen behind the door. One of the men cleared his throat.

_ “I apologize for coming this late. As I understand you were at the event in the city hall tonight?” _

_ “Yes, I was. Is that what this is about?” _  Eric asked patiently.

_ “No, sadly, no, Mr. Northman,” _  the man paused.  _ “Miss Willa Burrell has disappeared again.” _

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand and then pressing my ear closer to the wooden door.

_ “Has she?” _  Eric asked with surprise.  _ “I’m so sorry… has she been in the woods again?” _

One of the men grunted.  _ “We don’t know… no one knows. She was last seen in her home, by her parents. She disappeared over 48 hours ago, and, as you know, that  is procedure.” _

_ “Of course.” _

_ “We decided to come talk to you because… well because…” _

There  was a pause and someone cleared their throat again.

_ “Well... Mr. Northman… the parents informed us Miss Burrell had developed a certain infatuation with you after you rescued her last year.” _

_ “Oh…?” _  Eric sounded politely curious.

_ “The parents would like us to investigate the possibility she could… I’m sure you understand…” _

_ “But of course…” _  Eric said promptly.  _ “I am here to cooperate in any way I can, Detective.” _

_ “Good, good…”  _ a sigh.  _ “I don’t suppose you’ve seen the girl then?” _

_ “No. I have not. I haven’t seen or spoken to Miss Burrell since the incident back in October.” _

Some assenting sounds from the men.

_ “Yes, we assumed as much. We apologize, this is merely procedure, Mr. Northman. The girl has most likely ran from home and is shacking up with some acidhead in the dorms.” _

Eric chuckled.  _ “That is very likely. I am sorry I couldn’t be more help… I will keep my eyes peeled, though.” _

_ “You do that, Mr. Northman.” _

There were more pleasantries exchanged before Eric led them to the door and bid them goodnight.

I walked up to the window again and watched as the car drove away. Eric knocked on the door and I jumped with a start. A jogged over to unlock it and pull it open. Eric slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

“What do you think happened to her?” I asked curiously.

“She’s here…” Eric hissed, his fangs clicking loudly in the quiet room.


	10. Chapter 10

I was a little disoriented as I came down the steps into the basement of the Landry House that night. I guessed it had been where Eric had disappeared, though he moved so quickly I hadn’t been physically able to see him. There was a secret door behind the grand staircase and it was wide open as I neared it. I called down into the darkened steps but received no answer from him. The next obvious step had been to go down there myself.

I confess I had been trembling slightly. There was just something too ominous about it – the darkness was like a vacuum, sucking me in. A cold chill I couldn’t explain rushed past me and I stuck myself to the wall on my right as I descended – the dark was so dark, white splotches blurred my eyes the deeper I went. It was clear to me the basement had been dug even deeper than normal, and whilst I was unsure of the reason why, I imagined there was one – nothing Eric did was for no reason, I had learned that quickly.

When I reached the bottom I finally heard something, a hum, like a deep voice coming from my left. As I blinked my eyes, I could distinguish a faint light spilling out of a doorway. I started moving in that direction, aware of my breathing having become erratic, my hand reached for the wall again. It was then I started to hear them…

_ “I didn’t know you had been searching for me, Eric… I would have come sooner had I known…” _

I frowned at the unfamiliar voice. It was decidedly male, deep and gravelly – there was a derisive tone to it – it sent chills down my spine.

_ “What are you keeping Miss Burrell for, Franklin?” _

Eric’s voice stopped me in the hallway and I stopped breathing. I knew now who had taken her – Franklin Mott, the vampire who had followed me home. I couldn’t imagine why, but from Eric’s tone, perhaps he did.

_ “Well, she’s pretty!” _  was the man’s mocking reply, followed by a chuckle.  _ “She tastes just fine too… you have always known how to pick them, Eric… I can only imagine what that pretty-looking blonde tastes like...”  _ he paused and the skin on the back of my neck started prickling unpleasantly – I resumed my steps, keeping close to the wall anyway.  _ “… if it’s anything like she smells… aaah…” _  there was another long pause, and I could  _ hear _  him inhaling deeply.  _ “… my fangs ache just thinking about it, Eric…” _

_ “Well… you will never know what she tastes like, Franklin…” _  was Eric’s equally derisive reply, and though I couldn’t hear his steps, I knew he had walked further into the room from the fading quality of his voice.  _ “You won’t know what anybody else tastes like… you are not leaving this room alive.” _

_ “Now Eric, you have to ask yourself: is this really  _ **_prudent_ ** _?” _

_ “I can’t think of any damaging consequences to your final death, no…” _  was Eric’s simple reply.

_ “Oh dear… you don’t mince words, do you? And  I assumed you were a politician.” _

_ “You assumed wrong,” _  Eric’s voice became impatient.

I had reached the door, and I stood just outside it, holding my breath – I heard nothing for a moment and then Franklin spoke again, tugging at my insides unpleasantly.

_ “Doesn’t your pet know it’s impolite to eavesdrop?” _

I gasped for a moment as my heart jolted inside me. I hadn’t considered, of course, that they were vampires, and they would have heard my breathing and probably have smelled me the moment I reached the bottom of the stairs. I shook my head to myself and simply stepped through the doorway into the room and stood there as though I’d meant to be there all along.

The room was lit by candles mounted on top of a large dresser behind Franklin Mott. He sat upon a green, velvet lounger, one knee bent and a bare foot on the cushions – at his feet on the floor sat a quiet, listless Willa Burrell, eyes glazed over, drying blood down the front of a pristine white shirt. My heart clenched for her immediately and in my urge to go to her I made to move, but Eric was quick, and he suddenly blocked my sight, by standing directly in front of them and I could only see his back now.

“Stand up, Franklin…” Eric growled at him. “… let’s finish this.”

“What? You don’t care to hear what am I doing here anymore?” Franklin sounded truly disappointed.

“I don’t have to. I can smell the wolves on you – interesting choice for new associates. No one will lament the death of a traitor, Mott. We suspected the wolves had to have gotten the location of the assembly from somewhere.”

“Indeed,” Franklin chuckled. “Though I bet it surprises you they got it from me!”

“Oh, I don’t believe for a second it was truly you…” Eric laughed.

He actually stepped away, walking around Willa and closer to the other vampire. My eyes dropped naturally to the girl, searching for fresh blood, open wounds, anything, but I could see nothing. My eyes flickered upwards again and I was relieved to see Franklin’s eyes were on Eric and not me.

“You’re too irrelevant a vampire, you would never have known where we assembled… but someone above you… someone who needed a lap dog…” Eric smirked, his voice becoming silky smooth as he leaned closer, too close almost to the other vampire’s face. “… a dog to tend to the  _ lesser _  dogs, perhaps?” he winked, and Franklin actually growled low, clear resentment over Eric’s assessment of him. “Let me guess…” Eric stood straight again, and dared show an enemy his back – it made me nervous and I shifted in place watching them both. “Russell Edgington?” 

Eric turned back around again and I sighed with relief though the other vampire had never moved from the lounger, and looked quite subdued now. “You  _ have _  been lurking in Jackson after all, haven’t you?” Eric continued, not really requiring confirmation. “I have to say it doesn’t surprise me… he has always been against mainstreaming.”

“And yet you all allowed him into the Council anyway…” Franklin’s derisive tone had returned, he sat up a little straighter, smiled a little, his huge green eyes rolled back towards me and he winked. “… fools, weren’t they?” he whisper-shouted in my direction. “I’m sure even a human can appreciate how foolish that was!”

“Russell Edgington is nearly three-thousand years old,” Eric snapped back as he marched in front of me, again, shielding me from the other vampire. “Sadly his age and power put him in a privileged position. But this won’t go unpunished.”

“Well… that’s the other thing I came here to tell you…” I could hear the vampire standing though I couldn’t see him. “Mr. Edgington is returning to the Europe tonight… you and…” he laughed. “… whatever’s left of your posse won’t find him in Jackson, or anywhere else in this country.”

“Uhmm…” Eric nodded curiously. “… and he’s left… you and a pack of dogs behind?”

Again I could hear the vampire growling over his wounded pride.

“… do you really think I am all he has? You kill me Eric, and it won’t do anything to stop him! You could never beat him! You may be a giant to most of us, but to Russell Edgington you’re nothing more than a fly!” Franklin spat out and walked around Eric until I could see him. As they repositioned I could see Willa between the two of them and I again suppressed the urge to go to the poor girl. “That fire, the wolves, that was just the beginning, Viking! You carry on with this insane, foolish  _ Revelation _  idea and there will only be death to all of you! The  _ Revelation _  is a mistake! He won’t let it happen!”

Eric moved so quickly I thought I’d blinked. He was suddenly towering over the other vampire, fangs out and snarling, both panting heavily with rage.

“Whatever happens… you won’t be here to see it!” Eric hissed at him.

I couldn’t contain the scream that ripped itself out of me with what happened next. My hands flew to my mouth and I backed against the wall in complete shock.

Eric did nothing but raise his hand in a rapid movement, and Franklin Mott’s head flew across the room, landing with a horrible splutter against the wall and down the floor. The rest of him simply melted in front of me, it undid itself in blood – and the horrible stench I had once experienced in the woods flooded my nostrils and I gagged, turning my back and leaning against the wall as I coughed with the rancid taste in the back of my throat – the sound of sizzling flesh reached my ears.

I heard Eric sighing behind me. “What a mess…” he said with the same regret I would have displayed over a spilled jug of water.

I panted as I attempted calming myself, leaning onto the wall and breathing through my mouth. As I blinked my eyes I saw something against the far wall I had not seen before. I covered my mouth and wailed against my palm, feeling faint.

“What is it?” Eric was suddenly next to me, touching my shoulder.

I simply moaned incoherently and nodded at the far opposite wall as tears prickled my eyes. Ginger lay there, eyes glazed and lifeless, she was pale, too pale – and dead, crumpled like a broken doll, with dried blood coating the side of her neck.

Eric sighed again next to me, unsurprised. Of course, he would have known, he had smelled her decaying body the moment he stepped into the house as I would find out later.

“Yes… poor Miss Buck…” he said, with a little more regard than he’d shown for the vampire he’d just killed.

“Why?” I babbled tearfully. “Why did he do this?”

Eric was quiet. He simply pulled me to him and forced my eyes away from the scene, tucking me into his chest. I knew it was a pointless question, and so he offered me no answer, he simply held me as I tried composing myself.

When I was finally able to wrench myself away from him and form a coherent thought, I kept my eyes away from Ginger, and from the still sizzling pile of blood that were Franklin Mott’s remains, and I raced over to poor Miss Burrell, dropping to my knees in front of her and trying to shake her back into consciousness.

“Bad idea…” Eric was suddenly picking me up and putting me to the side. “… she can’t wake up here, Sookie, she would be as horrified as you…” he pointed out.

“Is she going to be OK?” I asked.

“She will…” Eric promised me as he scooped her up in his arms. “Come, Sookie… I’ll get Bobby and Mr. Ruben to straighten this out… it’s over.”

“Over…?” I asked dubiously. “Eric what were you two talking about? Who is this Russell Edgington?”

“Upstairs Sookie…” Eric insisted. “… I’ll tell you once we’ve taken care of Miss Burrell.”

 

I followed him upstairs blindly, and then I was able to focus, somewhat, by devoting my attention to Willa Burrell. Eric instructed me in what to do, and I did it all diligently, if a little frantically, aware this would have been Ginger’s job, if she were still alive. I found her a clean shirt of mine to wear – I cleaned the dried blood from her skin, and I combed her hair. In the meantime I heard Mr. Burnham and Ruben coming inside and listening to Eric’s instructions and doing whatever they were asked. My thoughts kept going back to poor Ginger, and more tears spilled down my face. I couldn’t wrap my head around any of it.

“How are you feeling?”

I looked up from where I had been - sitting on a chair at the foot of my bed on the second floor, watching Miss Burrell in her induced sleep. I blinked my eyes to clear them and shrugged.

“I don’t know… numb, I guess.”

Eric nodded, stepping quietly into the room, peering over Miss Burrell’s sleeping form. Then he was kneeling next to me, searching me with clear blue eyes.

“I’m sorry none of it could be stopped. I’m sorry I was careless.”

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“I am still sorry…” Eric blinked, sounding sincere. “… you’re still too young and innocent… and the things you’ve witnessed… I am sorry. I hope none of it will permanently discourage you from joining me.”

I shook my head and swallowed thickly. “The last thing I want to talk about right now, Eric, is  _ that _ …” I looked over at the sleeping girl. “… now what?”

Eric looked over his shoulder at the bed and sighed, a very human gesture. I wondered if perhaps I was starting to rub off on the vampire.

“Now… I glamour her into believing nothing too serious has happened to her.”

“What  _ did _  happen to her? Why did that vampire have her in the first place? Why  _ her _ ?”

Eric looked at me with something like pity for a moment. “It was because of you…”

“What?” I blinked.

Eric stood, and reached into a coat pocket before slipping me a piece of old paper. It was a cutout from the article about Miss Burrell’s disappearance over four months ago – it included my brief interview with Eric.

“Oh my God…” my hand flew to my mouth.

“He must have investigated you after he met you, after he smelled me on you…” Eric looked at me with sympathy. “… he must have deduced what happened to Miss Burrell… he must have found her. Though I fed her my blood several months ago she will still carry my scent due to my age… he got her to get at me… He couldn’t get to you so…” he shrugged. “He planned to frame me, most likely. The police will be searching the woods for Miss Burrell right now, having expected me to lie.”

“Oh my God, Eric… what are we going to do?” I sat up.

“The police won’t find anything… and I’ll take care to return Miss Burrell somewhere safe and far from here and she won’t remember anything…” he promised me.

I was still shaking my head. “What if they find something?”

“There’s nothing  _ to _  find…” Eric shrugged.

“Are you sure? What if that… man hid something important somewhere?”

“I’ll take care of it…” Eric said confidently.

I swallowed and sagged against my seat. “I suppose you’ve had plenty of practice with this sort of thing.”

Eric almost smiled. “Yes, I have.”

Eric disappeared with Miss Burrell shortly after, and I wandered through the house like a ghost, unable to relax, unable to stop thinking, stop  _ seeing _  Ginger’s dead eyes and crumpled body. I almost went to the phone to call Amelia, just to hear her voice, just to have contact with another human being again. But what would I say to her? I would mostly likely just cry and heave and make her worry.

I finally found perch in the library – the quiet room full of books and the smell of leather never failed to bring me comfort. But as I sat in one of the plus armchairs of the dark room all I felt was cold and desolate. I drew my knees to my chest and rested my chin on top of them, wrapping my arms around myself, staring ahead of me, unseeingly – all I could see were  _ her _  eyes.

“Miss Stackhouse?”

I looked up towards the door to see Mr. Burnham there, holding the doorknob, watching me with polite detachment.

“Yes, Bobby..?” I cleared my throat, lifting my head.

“I just came to see if you need anything, ma’am…”

“I don’t…” I blinked back at him. “…what time is it?” I frowned suddenly,  dropping my feet back on the floor and scooting to the edge of the seat – I had no idea how long I had been sitting there.

“It’s four-thirty in the morning, ma’am,” he answered, watching me curiously.

“Four-thirty?” my frown deepened. “And Eric hasn’t returned yet?”

“Master Eric might have to go to ground elsewhere tonight, Miss Stackhouse…” Mr. Burnham said, looking at the closed curtains. “However, the house is now secured and every possible entrance has been locked. I must ask you to go to your bedroom, where you can put an extra lock between yourself and the outside.”

“Is there still danger?” I wondered.

“It’s more of a precaution.”

In the silence after his last sentence, we could both hear the distant howling of wolves and I immediately brought myself on my feet and started moving. Mr. Burnham escorted me to my bedroom in silence.

“How did he get in, Bobby?” I asked as we stopped in my doorway, I turned to face him. “This house had always seemed so safe before…”

“It was…” Bobby Burnham agreed. “However many of the vampires loyal to Mr. Northman died in that fire, leaving his enemies to feel a bit more daring than usual.”

“Is he safe out there, Bobby?” I swallowed, remembering the grave-digging werewolves.

Mr. Burnham paused, considering my question. “He has survived for over a thousand years for a good reason, Miss Stackhouse.”

I nodded, stepping back into my room. “You’re right… good night, Mr. Burnham.”

“Miss Stackhouse,” he nodded before stepping away.

I couldn’t sleep for the longest time. By the time my eyes started closing, I could already hear the chirp of the birds.

 

Eric returned after sundown with good news. Willa Burrell had been reunited with her parents with a story about getting high with a man she met one night, a man with Franklin’s description, and a fake name, a man the police would look for, forever, and never find. I am happy to say Willa never got into any sort of trouble because of Eric or I, again. She graduated from college, and enjoyed a long, happy life.

Eric became frantic after those events. I knew he would leave the house to meet with Pam somewhere and that they were both working on strengthening their positions once more. He explained to me who Russell Edgington was – a much older vampire, and therefore a much stronger one, one who was not on his side.

He also told me he was merely one vampire among many who were working to bring the  _ Revelation _ , and that, though he had been skeptical about it, he understood it was necessary – Russell Edgington, didn’t, and he was considered a bit of a madman… a very powerful madman however.

Eric didn’t stop until he felt we were safe again, until he knew he had enough vampires loyal to him to surround himself with. Vampires I still wasn’t allowed to see.

I couldn’t fathom somebody being over a thousand years old, let alone three thousand – the thought was frightening somehow. Eric had told me about how he’d forgotten how to be human with the years, and how much of what vampires did after a while, like breathing, was simply an emulation. If Eric had looked so inhuman to me at times, I could only imagine what a three-thousand year old vampire would look like to me.

It again brought forth to mind, the vague notion I was not simply human myself. I felt quite human as of late, ever since I’d lost my ability to hear thoughts – I don’t think I had ever felt more human, more ordinary. Eric had chuckled when I said it, and promised me whether I wanted to admit it or not, I would never be simply human, even if I blended in better than vampires.

I told him I couldn’t understand what he meant by that. Eric explained that, just as vampires appeared to glow for me, vampires, and other supernatural creatures, would be able to see me differently. It wasn’t just my scent, it was the pull I exerted over those around me. When I frowned, Eric explained sky fairies were naturally alluring creatures – a full sky faerie could send men and women into a trance of foggy, sexual desire – they would do anything one asked. While the fae in me could be diluted, to the point where a vampire wouldn’t have the urge to drain me on sight, I was still a sky fairy and just as alluring.

“How do you think you attracted Franklin to you, in the first place? He saw you first, then he smelled you. You’re irresistible to us, Sookie,” Eric explained. “And… coincidentally, you do have a glow to your skin as well, it’s the sun – and it’s beautiful.”

I pointed out the fact human men probably wouldn’t agree. But then I knew my awkwardness was what had pushed many of them away. I was growing up, struggling with voices in my head, going slowly insane, being carted off to doctors who swore I had some mental disorder.

It didn’t mean I never got the  _ looks _  from men, and sometimes women. I did get them, accompanied by frustrated sighs as they walked away.

The boys I did get involved with had been perhaps troubled in their own way, and keen to overlook, but not unaware of my oddities.

Perhaps Eric was right and I wasn’t as human as I wanted to believe I was. But I still identified myself as one, it was all I knew, even if it was a modified version of it. So I was happy to not be pressed to speak about being turned anymore. I was happy Dr. Ludwig’s concoction was doing a good job – happy, so very happy.

It had been over four months since my meeting with Cataliades when she decided it was time for another dose of demon blood. I had survived three weeks more than Barry Horowitz. After that last dose, and the blood sample she took from me, she seemed confident we could cheat death for a long time – she said my blood had been finding new ways to incorporate the demon blood, like it was part of me again. Eric had looked happy, and it gave me confidence to be happy as well. He admitted he could barely scent the demon in me now.

And so came the spring – and like I had suspected, the garden looked breathtaking. I spent much of my afternoons in it, sitting on a bench, reading, sometimes writing. I wrote about what I read in Eric’s books, piecing together pieces of the puzzle of what I was. I didn’t know why I felt the need to do that. I just did. Of course, many of the really helpful books were in languages I didn’t understand, but Eric would sit down and translate what he believed to be of use to me.

It was how we spent much of our time. In the library, or in front of the hearth in his bedroom, where he would answer my many questions about what little he could remember of his human life, and then his vampire life. He had many stories of his progeny Pam.

I still wondered why I couldn’t meet Pam, why she never came to the house again. Eric promised me I would meet her, but I suspected I would only meet her if he turned me, and I wasn’t still quite sure that would ever happen now that Dr. Ludwig seemed confident I was going to get really, really better.

We didn’t talk about my dying anymore. We settled into a nearly domestic routine. I kept giving Amelia excuses as to why I couldn’t go back home and I stayed with Eric. It was strange I had never shared a house with a boy, and now I was living full-time with a one thousand-year old vampire. In many ways, I supposed it would be just like living with any boy. We had loving, playful moments. But no man could compare to Eric when it came to making love, or, when he was feeling particularly naughty, no man fucked like Eric. And I often had to remind him I was human, and I couldn’t possibly keep up with him and his appetites. It was then Eric would remind me I was born to be like him, and he would always sound so certain of it. But then I would push away talking about my mortality, like always.

We had many nights in which we did absurd things, like sitting down and playing chess. After the first few times, being frustrated he couldn’t be beaten, Eric started just teaching me every possible move, and telling  _ why _  he couldn’t be defeated exactly because by then he already knew every move possible.

The only thing I couldn’t talk him into doing was sitting down and watching television for any extended amount of time.

Whenever he had to be absent, he’d send Bobby Burnham into the house, and I would be required to lock myself in my bedroom for safety, though by then Eric had new vampires under him, enough of them to keep enemies at a respectable distance. I knew nothing about where these vampires hid, and Eric never told me about them.

By the end of March, I finally convinced Eric it was OK for him to drink from me. I felt normal, and I pointed out to him he could barely detect the demon blood in me anymore. I had to admit I was as ecstatic about it as he was.

It bothered me to imagine him feeding from the beautiful Ms DeSantis, or anybody else. Whenever he returned with his rosy cheeks I felt the slight sting of jealousy. Besides, I wanted to experience  _ that _  again. If at first I had found the idea of being food to anybody repulsive, after that first time I felt very differently about it. It was a nearly out-of-body sort of experience, and I wanted it as badly as I wanted the drugs that made me forget I could hear people – maybe more.

To feel the slight sting of his fangs, to feel his lips upon my skin, to have him cradle me in his arms like a precious thing as he drank my blood was as intimate a moment as it was erotic. When that happened between us, I felt as though I was an expert in the art of sex myself. Of course, I wasn’t… it was merely the chemistry of the bite, or the magic of it, if you want to get a bit mythical.

The very fact a vampire’s bite can be pleasurable to the prey, the fact the prey is susceptible to hypnosis – it all works in favor of the predator’s survival. Of course I understood that. Of course on some level I found that unsettling. But what was between us was not a predator and prey dynamic – it had never been. Eric had broken every rule from the beginning when it came to me. And because of it, I was selfishly and unregretting in my enjoyment of it.

 

It was a happy time, that spring. I felt like I was myself in the strangest of ways, in ways I never had experienced. There was a new routine I was getting used to, and I loved it. Perhaps soon I would find my niche in the world again, perhaps get back to work and all.

But I should have known, I should have realized the mistake I’d made in getting  _ used _  to things… every other time it happened, something new and horrible came to throw me off-balance again… of course it wasn’t going to be different now.

In mid April there was another big, mysterious fire. This time somewhere in New Orleans. It was also the night when I met Pam.

It was way past midnight. Eric and I had been lying in his bed, enjoying ourselves after another lovely night of debauchery. We were drunk in each other. Smiling and laughing, and caressing each other’s skins in amazement. When, abruptly the door swung open and I felt a rush of wind as I blinked my eyes against the flurry of movement.

I sat up against the headboard, holding the covers up to my neck, while Eric stood in full naked glory next to the bed with his shoulders hunched over and snarling. Across from us, in front of the window was the dainty blonde I had seen months earlier, thinking her a hallucination.

I could see her much better that night. She was small and slim, with long, pale blonde hair, several shades lighter than mine. She was pale, with blue eyes and a doll’s perfect little mouth. She hid underneath a dark coat, but the fabric teased very lithe and feminine contours. Her blue eyes trailed over me as mine trailed over her – but while my were certainly wide with curiosity, hers drooped with interest.

“Pamela!” Eric suddenly snarled, interrupting our perusal of each other.

My eyes blinked over to him as he zoomed in front of her and I frowned as both started speaking at each other with a strange cadence – it actually took me a moment to realize they weren’t speaking in English. They spoke fast and back and forth while Eric suddenly started to pace, still completely naked, while Pam followed him with her eyes, completely unfazed by it. She talked the most, and continuously, sounding very urgent about whatever it was.

“Hey!” I suddenly spoke up, moving onto my knees in the middle of the bed, still holding the covers to my body. “It’s extremely  _ rude _  to speak in a foreign language while I’m present! But if you like, I’ll leave!”

Both stopped and turned to me. Eric had a mildly confused expression on his face, while Pam actually smirked with amusement before looking back at her maker, staying silent, as if waiting for him to speak.

Eric blinked, batting his eyes away from me, and shaking his head. Both of them choosing to completely ignore my outburst. I huffed and sat back on my calves, tucking my hands under my armpits and doing my best to keep from pouting like a brat.

Pam threw some question at Eric, and he replied, this time in English. “We’ll go tonight. This can’t wait.”

“Where are you going?” I perked up again, and frowned.

Eric turned to me again, just as he reached for his coat and threw it over his shoulders. “New Orleans. Something has happened… there was another fire… I must go…”

“Another fire?” I gasped and again I scooted to the edge of the bed and gathered the covers around myself as I padded to him. “You mean there was another attack against vampires? And you’re  _ going towards it _ ?”

“I have to…” Eric shook his head against my pleading look. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” I asked and I cast another glance at his progeny, to find her eyes again trailing down my body with a pleased smile on her lips, as though she’d acquired x-ray vision. “Is it just the two of you going?”

“No,” it was Pam who replied. “I have summoned others…”

I looked at Eric pleadingly as he finished getting dressed. He paused, regarding me for a moment before addressing Pam in whatever language they’d been speaking. Pam’s response was to nod, and simply march out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“Eric…?” I asked impatiently again.

He was in front of me in the blink of an eye, cradling my face between his hands. “You worry too much, little one…” he kissed my mouth. “I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”

I sighed and nodded. “You better be…”

“I’ll send Bobby inside… you should sleep.” He finished, kissing my forehead.

Before I could breathe an answer he was gone.

 

With Eric gone I was left to worry by myself. I tossed and turned in bed, getting no sleep. The moonlight glared at me from the window. At one point, I scooted off the bed, like if I’d been prodded to. I frowned at the gaping window and it was like the light was bothering me. I suddenly wanted to close the curtains and immerse myself in darkness.  I marched over to the glass and tugged at the curtains on both sides, ready to whip them closed.

And it was then I saw something unexpected, but familiar. Something that chilled me to my bones.

Past the wrought-iron fence surrounding Eric’s property, just across the road, visible under a street light, there was a figure of a man looking right back at me, just outside the tree line. I was sure it was Desmond Cataliades – and he was waiting for me.


	11. Chapter 11

I felt a strange pull the longer I stared at him. Not unlike the pull I felt the night of Halloween, but not entirely like it either. That night I’d felt as though my legs were propelling me forward in spite of my instincts. Now my legs had no will of their own, but I still felt strangely compelled to go to him.

He just stood there, staring back, waiting. I must have stared for a few minutes. I heard my own resigned sigh as I made my decision. Just as my hands dropped from the thick curtains, leaving them unmoved, he turned around and walked into the woods.

_ In every lie a bit of truth _  – I recanted in my head.  _ Following strangers into the woods equals bad _  – definitely the heart of many cautionary tales,  _ fairy _  tales…

I turned back towards the bedroom, my eyes travelling around, taking in the details that made it Eric’s room - the furs, the books, the mounted broadsword. I thought briefly of where he’d gone to and why and I hoped he was well.

I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, I counted to ten. When I opened my eyes, I was still decidedly going. My anger was as much an impulse as whatever else was compelling me.

I was wearing my pajamas, so I just swept up my cotton robe and tied a knot around my waist, slipped on a pair of boots since I was going into the woods and walked out of the bedroom.

The moment I stepped in the corridor I heard a creak behind me. I looked over my shoulder quickly, realizing it’d come from one of the rooms next to Eric’s. I held my breath and waited – remembering Mr. Burnham had been sent into the house to keep an eye on me. Quickly, and as quietly as I could, I raced back into the room and closed the door behind me, pressing my ear to the wood.

I heard as a door opened down the corridor, and I heard his steps as he came to my doorstep. I clamped my hand over my mouth, holding my breath. A moment passed before I heard Mr. Burnham walking back to his room and closing his door.

He wasn’t going to let me leave, I was certain. So I had to be extremely quiet. For the first time, I wished I had a vampire’s inhuman stillness and silence. I took off my boots, and left them behind – I would be less detectable if I went barefoot.

I counted to ten once more, and opened the door the littlest I could, and peered down towards Mr. Burnham’s door. I squeezed my way past the crack in the door and pulled it closed quietly, all the while staring at his door. I heard no more sudden creaks or sounds.

I turned around and padded down the corridor, until I felt as though I’d put enough distance that I could stride. As I reached the top of the landing, I reached for the banister and threw a cautious look over my shoulder. Mr. Burnham’s door remained closed. I smiled, a little too proud of my sneaking abilities.

Once I was outside I quickened my pace, though the soles of my feet quickly became sensitive to every little jagged pebble on the ground. I felt less clever now that I’d left my boots behind, but it was too late to go back so I kept going, bracing through each little cut and nick as I neared the wrought iron gates. It was far too easy to get out. Ruben was nowhere to be seen and I had keys.

I was breathless as I neared the spot where I’d watched Cataliades disappear, and I slowed down, almost mechanically. The street lamp that had been over his head was flickering slightly as I approached it, my eyes sweeping up just as it flickered off permanently.

I frowned. Had I not seen that in a movie once?

_ Turn away, go back… _

But why? Why should I go back? Wasn’t it obvious this was supposed to happen? I was dead already, wasn’t I? I had been cheating death for nearly three months now… perhaps it was time to stop. Perhaps it was time to find out what happened next…

_ Into the forest she went… _

It was almost like I knew where to go. I didn’t walk in a straight line, but turned right and went further and further in a winding path. It was strange however, that the supernatural quietude I had been expecting was not present. There was a soft breeze rustling through the trees, and I could hear the nocturne animals skittering by in full activity - and owls, and bats and rodents. The only thing absent were the howling wolves. I knew them to be all gone by then, due to Eric’s vampires hunting what was left of them down one by one.

Nothing was quite what I had expected and when I finally reached my destination, a large clearing somewhere in the woods I hadn’t been to before, it wasn’t Desmond Cataliades who I found waiting for me.

Instead, standing in front of me was a woman. Tall but lithe, dark-haired, with large brown eyes and pale, smooth-looking skin. She wore a deep red, transparent  _ dress,  _ if it could be called that… it looked so light I could swear it was made out of  _ air. _ _ I _  blinked as I detected a slight glow to her skin, it made me think of the sun – I remembered Eric’s words to me about how my own skin glowed that way and my breath hitched – she was one of  _ them _ …

“You’re not who I was expecting…” I blurted, batting my eyes and shaking my head, trying to focus.

She had been watching me back quietly. Her mouth moved slightly, and I noticed she had an attractive face, very attractive, and I understood what Eric said about fairies and their allure. She seemed to be trying to find words to speak and I frowned at the awkward, suspenseful silence.

“Can you talk?” I prodded, rather impatiently.

“I… talk…” she finally spoke, tilting her head uncertainly at me.

Her voice was delightful, raspy, attractive like the rest of her. I suddenly thought about mermaids and their legendary singing voices who led many sailors to drown.  _ A bit of truth to every lie… _  maybe everything was true…

“Was it really you I saw standing out of the woods?” I asked.

She nodded slowly, watching me much like I was an animal at the zoo, her face tilting this way and that way, in a very inhuman way. It was bizarre to me how easy it was to spot  _ them _  now… It seems like, after you meet your first  _ non-human _ , you learn to spot the differences more quickly.

“Why would you disguise yourself as  _ him _ ?” I frowned.

“Because I knew you would want to speak to him,” she said simply. “You would kill him if you could,” she said knowingly, a strange smile gracing her lips.

“If I could…” I tested the words in my mouth. “I’m not sure I am capable of that.”

Her smile widened strangely. “One day perhaps…”

“Who are you?” I asked.

She became sad all of a sudden, and strangely, it was like her glow diminished.

“I was meant to guard you…” her eyes rolled up to meet mine. “… to keep you safe and guide you…”

“Well… you did a terrible job…” I deadpanned.

Her eyes flickered darkly. “I wasn’t allowed near you… not since you were very little.”

“Why?” I asked, truly curious.

“So much has changed…” she shook her head regrettably. “… nothing is like once was… promises were broken, contracts destroyed… pacts… undone… doors closed…” she looked sad, so sad I felt myself sagging with her. “I failed you… we’ve all failed you, Sookie…”

“I’m fine now!” I blinked, fighting against the sudden sadness that I seemed to have absorbed from her. “I’m… I’m healed… there’s a treatment…”

“That won’t save you…” she interrupted me, looking suddenly serious, business-like. “…and the delay is only making the demon more impatient…” she suddenly started looking around, as if expecting him to jump from behind some tree. “… we’re running out of time, Sookie.”

She stepped closer to me, and I, instinctively, stepped back. “Running out of time for what?”

“I am so sorry I cannot give you the answers you are looking for…” she whispered as we were face to face with each other.  “But there’s no time…” she continued in a hurried, whispered voice, eyes wide with her urgency. “… this was not supposed to happen, it wasn’t the plan! But Cataliades broke his end of the pact because he thinks we’ve abandoned this world, that we’ve abandoned you…”

“Slow down, what are you talking about?” I raised a hand, overwhelmed by the information. “Who are you people? What do you want from me?”

“I am not certain we can still get what we want from you…” she said sadly. “… but it doesn’t matter…” she said, seizing my wrist suddenly.

I gasped looking down at the firm grasp of her on me. I pulled back instinctively but she was surprisingly strong for someone so frail-looking.

“… the daughter of the Sky Fae will not be forgotten…” she continued in a much firmer voice. My eyes rolled up to meet hers and I frowned. “… if we wait too long, he won’t be able to save you…”

“Who?” I blinked.

“… he must do it now… forgive me, cousin…” she bent down and kissed my cheek.

I blinked perplexed at the sudden closeness, at the sudden warmth spreading through my body, and then I felt a sudden, quick jab in my stomach and I gasped reflexively.

I staggered back, my eyes dropping down my front – she held a blade between us, a blade drenched in blood -  _ my blood _ . She’d stabbed me. Blood seeped through my cotton robe, I could feel it sticking my clothes to my skin and oozing out of a deep, deep wound I was only starting to feel.

“Oh my God…” I gasped, my hands closing over the wound immediately, my eyes flickering upwards and looking straight into her brown eyes.

She looked back at me sadly, holding the offending blade down her side. “… now fight, Sookie…” she said to me imperatively.

“ _ What? _ ” I gasped, feeling woozy, staggering forward, the blood loss already getting to my head.

“… do not die!” she said.

 “ **_You_ ** _  stabbed me! _ ” I screeched, stumbling forward, mad with rage and losing all coherent thought. I missed, and fell on my knees before rolling on my side, I was burning all over, feeling wetness down my front and over my hands as I tried to pressure the wound, fighting the pain emanating from it.

“…he is coming…” she whispered as she kneeled next to me. “… you’ll be fine…”

I glared back at the fairy, breathing raggedly, my sight already losing focus, my head thumped loudly. She was crazy, crazy and I was going to die there. I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to pace myself, and when I opened them, she was gone.

_ This can’t be it… _

“Sookie, wake up…  _ wake up _ …”

I opened my eyes again. I saw nothing at first, only his contour in the dark, but then, I could see the glow of his skin and then his crystal blue eyes and his deep determined frown.

“Eric…” I smiled stupidly, already feeling myself going again, there was such a pressure in my brain, everything was so cold and warm at the same time, I could no longer feel my limbs. “… you made it…” I muttered, my last thoughts being that he hadn’t died in any fires.

“You are dying Sookie…” he told me seriously.

“I know…” I babbled. “…fairy stabbed me…” as I spoke I could taste my blood in my mouth.

I watched in a daze as he brought his own wrist to his mouth and bit deep, when he moved it away I could see his glistening fangs, stained in his own blood. He brought his wrist to me, and lifted my weightless torso and my head lolled into his chest. He nudged his wounded wrist to my mouth, my eyes flickered down to the tiny punctures and the dark, rich, oozing blood.

It suddenly all fell into place. I had a strange moment of clarity in my last moments alive. The fairy killed me to save me. She’d planned this – she knew Eric would come when he felt me expiring. If I didn’t do this now, I’d die.

Did I want to die?

“Sookie  _ please _ …”

Eric’s voice brought me back and batted my eyes up towards his, I could feel my breathing worsening by the minute.

“Don’t make me force it down your throat,” he snarled.

I didn’t. I honestly didn’t.

Desmond Cataliades… whoever the fuck he was… was not going to take me down.

“Help…” I croaked, barely able to move.

Eric shifted me in his arm, so my head tilted back and then he poised his punctured wrist above my lips. As I felt the first drops of his blood hit my tongue my eyes flickered closed – the effect was instant and I closed my lips around the wound, and sucked. It was like drinking air, and life, and it tasted different, it tasted of him and more. I opened my eyes to find Eric’s face close to mine, and a relieved, proud smile on his lips, his eyes glistened and he cooed at me softly, bending down to brush his lips over my brow.

I drank until Eric pulled his wrist away, my mouth still full of his exquisite flavor, and I felt strangely sated, and sleepy. My eyes drooped now, not because I was in my dying moments, but I felt compelled to go into deep, deep sleep.

“Sleep…” Eric whispered, still staring down at me lovingly, brushing his fingers through my hair. “… nothing more can ever hurt you now…”

I smiled and closed my eyes obediently, and the world ceased to exist. For three days and three nights, while I slept in the dirt.

 

It’s difficult to talk about the first night you wake up a vampire. I have heard many speak enthusiastically about it and with so much poetry woven into it, you would roll your eyes in disdain.

It’s not an awakening really, you’re not really sleeping – you’re dead.

We call it a rebirth.

The word scared me at first.

I was terrified.

You feel every speck of dirt scraping against your skin, you feel your maker’s strong frame enveloped around your curled up form, like a cocoon. For the first time ever, he doesn’t feel cold, nor warm – he feels just  _ right _ . And you just feel  _ everything _ !

You’re aware of your muscles, every inch of your skin, every pore, your mind is so alert, and your ears so sharp you could hear a pin drop a hundred miles away. The epithet _   dead body _  becomes suddenly ludicrous because you’ve never felt so  _ alive _ .

The minute you break free from your grave and you’re outside is very overwhelming. Your sight terrifies you at first -  your eyes flit around wide and fast, and it’s like being on a rollercoaster, with the world rushing you by and all you see are the blurred lights of the other rides surrounding you – and it goes on until you finally settle on something unique and then you’re paralyzed by how  _ different _  it looks now. To me it was the night sky, over the tops of the trees – stars had never seemed so bright, and I could see so much more!

Then there’s your sense of smell. You can smell everything differently, you can name the things you smell and you can tell the direction of the wind and you can know whether that fruit is spoiled and you know exactly how many yards away that possum carcass is. And the sounds! The noises, so many, so different, and I closed my eyes and I actually smiled because the cacophony was so like what my head felt like when I could hear  _ thoughts _ !

Then comes the  _ thirst _  – it starts on the roof of your mouth and it spreads to your tongue and down your throat, and every part of you tenses, and you feel a slight pressure in your gums, and the sharper it gets, the more it hurts, and then suddenly there’s a  _ click _  and you feel your teeth making room for your newborn  _ fangs _ .

I gasped when I first felt mine – and it was like everything stopped for a second, no sounds, no smells, no sight, I just  _ felt them _ , protruding from my mouth, two new teeth that felt like they were pure  _ nerve _ . I felt I would have attacked anything that walked past me in that moment, the urge to drink is great – but soon I was again overwhelmed by my combined and honed senses and the added realization that, as I drew in air to fill my lungs, nothing quite exactly happened.

“Sssshh…” Eric surged behind me then, banding his arms around me, flattening my back against his broad chest, his lips just next to my right ear. “… it will pass…” he cooed. “…air now is just a reflex… we use it to pace ourselves, to expel anxiety, and to blend in with humans… just relax… you don’t need it… once you’re calm, you’ll be able to do it…”

I nodded, trying to contain my despair. As strange as it sounds, learning how to  _ process air _  was the first thing I did. Breathing, something so natural and involuntary to the living, has a whole other function when you’re a vampire.

_ Feeding _  came next. And as I became overwhelmed with my thirst I heard movement in the woods, and then, when I sniffed, the sweetest scent filtered through my nostrils and I experienced for the first time, the strange mixture of hunger and  _ desire _ . My fangs throbbed, and dark liquid pooled in my lower abdomen.

“What is that?” I asked in a hiss.

“Your donor…” Eric told me calmly, keeping a strong hold of me.

I won’t say I wasn’t conflicted, and I don’t know how that experience goes for every one of us. Eric told me his first feeding was quite blameless and natural, but he assured me my conflict was a mark of the age we lived in. I didn’t want to, hungry as I was, to treat the young woman who wandered into the clearing as  _ food _  – willing as she was to do it. I could even  _ smell _  her willingness, I strangely recognized the scent of arousal – she was attracted to me, maybe to Eric as well, maybe she hoped we were the three of us going to engage into something more, and the way my body responded to it bothered me.

So I refused to feed, even as hunger clawed at me to just take her and drink until it didn’t hurt anymore.  When Eric, and the donor, tried to insist, I felt for the first time,  _ tears _  –  _ blood tears _ , and the realization this was me now hit, and I was then overwhelmed with sadness.

Eric took me back to the house, back to his bedroom and waited patiently with me until I was over my tears and my sadness. He then produced a crystal glass with blood in it.

“What…?” I blinked at it curiously.

Eric swirled the sweet-smelling liquid inside, waving it under my nose. “Miss Jones was kind enough to bleed herself into a glass for you… drink it…”

I stared at the glass for another second before  I swiped it off his hand and drained it in another one, going as far as to lick the remainders from the walls of the fine glass. It tasted different now, it tasted wonderful, like all of your favorite dishes rolled into one – like the only thing you’ll ever want to consume again. I suppose it tastes like, and feels like the first time you, as  a kid, first tasted chocolate.

“I’m sorry…” I sagged once I was done, dropping the glass to my lap. “I’m afraid I’ll be a disappointment as a vampire…”

Eric chuckled somewhere in the room, and I looked up to find him coming back with a warm, wet towel. He kneeled down next to me and proceeded to wipe the dirt off of my face and neck.

“You remind me of a vampire I know…” he said. “He drinks only from glasses, and his donors are some of the best paid I’ve seen.”

“Really?” I blinked curiously at him.

“The monsters you’ve been reading about are us older monsters, Sookie… vampires from this age tend to be less… instinct-driven,” he said carefully.

“Is that a bad thing?” I wondered.

Eric seemed to ponder my question with a small frown, as he moved to sit on the bed, next to my crossed legs and take my hands and wipe them clean as well.

“Perhaps it is bad in our world… perhaps they’re more susceptible to our own kind… but they tend to blend better with humans.” His eyes flittered up to mine. “You see this is why the revelation is inevitable. While humans remain as barbaric as ever, societies do try to keep the appearance of morality… it draws a line that separates us… it becomes difficult to hide.”

I frowned and nodded, the concept was becoming more and more clear the more I heard about it.

“Why do vampires speak of humans as though they aren’t…? Aren’t we still human?” I frowned – I didn’t feel  _ inhuman _  yet, despite all my new… abilities and tastes.

Eric looked at me for a long moment. “Ask me that in a hundred years.”

I blinked. “Is that all it takes?”

“You can ask Pam.”

“How old is Pam?”

“Three-hundred years.”

“I don’t even know who she was…” I muttered, suddenly forgetting all about where I was, and remembering how I’d gotten there.

“I could still smell her when I arrived…” Eric said darkly. “Why did you leave the house?” he asked me seriously.

I looked up at him and shrugged. “I felt I had to.”

“I might not have made back in time,” He hissed.

“She seemed confident you would.”

Eric frowned, taken aback. “She…?”

“She didn’t want me to die…” I said, knowing how crazy that sounded, seeing as she’d stabbed me.  I shook my head, dropping my eyes between us as I remembered the night that felt like it’d happened a year ago. “She said the waiting was making the demon impatient, that the treatment wouldn’t work forever, that there was no time…” I shook my head. “She said things I don’t understand… about me… and then she said he was sorry and she stabbed me, and she said you were coming.”

When I looked up, it was Eric who was looking down pensively. I felt a sudden urge to touch him, so I moved, and crawled into his lap, wrapping myself around him, aware my fangs were still out, and that there was still a strong desire in me, but I didn’t want to act on it, I just wanted the closeness.

“Would you have done it if I truly refused?” I asked him in a whisper.

Eric wrapped his arms around me and tugged at my hair to tilt my head back and stare into my eyes.

“I would have… yes… even if you hated me for it.”

I stared back at him, trying to decide how I felt about that. Finally I batted my eyes and I took his face between my hands, and kissed him.

I’d do anything for the ones I loved. Could I really blame him?

“I don’t know what to do now…” I sighed and hugged him tight again.

“You will… I’ll be here to guide you…” Eric promised me.

“What even am I now?” I chuckled unhappily.

“Whatever you want to be…”

I gave in to my  _ other _  hunger then, and I kissed him again, pushing him onto his back on the mattress. I quickly found out I too was insatiable now, and athletic and inventive and  _ good _  and  _ fun _ . I found out my body and muscles knew no limits anymore. Most of all I found out new depths to my feelings when it came to Eric.

He had been right – what is between maker and progeny, is stronger and deeper than any love I could have known before – and I am so glad it was he who turned me.

It still is difficult to speak of that first night, because whatever I describe here, doesn’t come close to what it actually feels like. It really is  _ rebirth _ , though not one in which you leave your old self behind, no matter what tales they’ve told you – they are lies.

What you are before, you still are when you’re turned. And if the old stories are that of monsters, is because they had been monsters before.

I had struggled my whole human life with knowing what I was. Crazy, telepath, fairy, vampire. At every turn I’d had to adapt and let the next thing redefine me.

Until I realized it didn’t matter.

Eric was right.

I could be whatever I wanted. I just wanted to be me.

What that fairy wanted with me in the woods? What was the meaning of her words? About some plan? About fairies abandoning me? About my not deserving death in spite of having lost my use? I can’t say I’ve gotten the answers yet. But I have time…

When I finally left the place where I was born,  _ twice,  _ nearly twenty years later, I searched far and back, and I have yet to meet another fae. I have, however, encountered other hybrids, none who could read minds however, none who would have crossed paths with a demon.

I had to tread carefully between worlds, until the last of my loved ones was gone, or until I was…

Jason first believed I had been swept by some strange cult, as did Amelia. I had to pull away from all of my friends. But it was fine, I realize now they were never my friends. Amelia I loved, and I knew she loved me too – and when it came the time I could no longer see her because she aged when I couldn’t, I glamoured her to forget about me.

With Jason, it worked differently. I couldn’t stay away from him. I eventually told him everything, and he hated me for a while. Eric feared he would start blabbing to other humans about how his sister had turned into a blood-sucking demon, and though no one would was likely to believe him, Eric tried to convince me to glamour Jason into forgetting me as well.

But I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. He was my brother. The last living member of my family. I insisted, I waited, I watched.

Until one day he drove to the house in the woods – he was married by then, to a woman named Michelle, like our mother. And I knew she was pregnant. He came to me, with a lot less anger, and we spoke privately in Eric’s library.

“I just realized last night… that my baby ain’t never gonna get to be held by his Aunt Sookie…” he told me tearfully.

“You wouldn’t trust me?” I asked him, unable to mask my disappointment. I had heard many hurtful things from my brother by then, but that still stung somehow.

Jason shook his head sadly at me, and through his sadness there as an unexpected smile, full of longing. “Oh, I trust you, Sook… I just don’t want her to meet you, to one day… have to forget you… and pretend like you don’t exist.”

“Jason…” I shook my head, taking a step closer.

“Northman came to me about a month ago…” he interrupted. “He told me you two are going away soon… that you can’t stay because… because of the aging thing. That you won’t come back until… until your people come out and all. He said he can’t promise that will happen in my life time… and that if I ever wanted to make peace with you… it was going to have to be now.”

I closed my eyes, and forced myself not to cry – I didn’t want to alarm my brother with blood tears.

“Jason, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be, Sook…” Jason interrupted me again. “It’s not your fault you wanted to live… I just wished… I could have protected you from everything. I’m your big brother.” He sniffled, and looked down between us, suddenly the embodiment of vulnerability. “Michelle and I have decided, if it’s a girl… we’ll name her Sookie…” he smiled at me unexpectedly. “It’s the only way I can keep you close now.”

“Oh Jason…” I couldn’t take it anymore and I strode to him and embraced him.

Unexpectedly he embraced me back, just as easily, and we both cried quietly.

“You’re… you’re cold…” he said as we pulled away.

“I’m sorry…” I said, wiping at my bloody tears, not wanting to gross him out.

“Don’t… be…” he was still smiling. “I’m glad you get to live forever.”

I sagged. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“If you ever come back here… make sure to keep an eye on my grandkids…” he grinned.

I laughed. “I will.”

After he left, I went looking for Eric. He was in his room, well, our room, reading a book. He looked up from it knowingly, and offered me his hand. I took it, and kneeled onto the bed, crawling over to lie next to him, tucked into his side.

“Thank you…” I said, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Do you feel better about leaving now?” he asked me, stroking through my hair.

“Yes…” I sighed.

It was inevitable. We had stayed too long, and Eric had done all he was supposed to do in the area. The revelation had been severely delayed, thanks to constant attacks from within. The powers that be, which assembled in New Orleans, had ordered a strategic retreat, and Eric was to go to Europe with other vampires, nearly as old as him, to try to contain the menace that Russell Edgington represented. I would go with him, of course, not only by choice, but because I was his progeny, his still newborn, and therefore still his charge.

It was 1999, and everything was packed for our departure. I was taking one last sweeping look at the library, which was now mostly empty, when I found a book that had been left behind – one written in old Gaelic, a language I still hadn’t mastered, though Eric had taken the time to teach me  _ some _  Swedish, Old Norse, and Latin – the two last ones in special to help me continue my research. About fairies and demons, about what they could have in common with each other.

“Why are we leaving this behind?” I asked Eric when he walked behind me.

“We aren’t… this book is… new…” he shook his head. “… not  _ new _ , but it wasn’t part of our collection. It was sent to us, it arrived yesterday in the mail… open it.” he told me.

I looked at him questioningly before I flicked the book open and found my name on the back of the cover, in elegant handwriting. I frowned. It said simply  _ May it help it in your quest. I am most interested in your curious little story. R.E. _

“R.E.?” I frowned. “Who’s R.E.?” Eric arched his eyebrows at me and I blinked. “Russell Edgington?” I laughed. “Russell Edgington gave me a book?”

“Did you read the title? It’s quite simple understand.”

“Yes…” I glanced down at it. “ _ Demons _ …”

“We’re accepting a gift from  _ Russell Edgington _ ?”

“It could be helpful, it’s quite old, and I can help you with the old Gaelic.”

“How does he even know I exist?”I narrowed my eyes.

Eric thought for a moment. “He knows me… while we’re enemies, he does respect me to a certain extent, most of us don’t make past 500 years, the old ones tend to enjoy a certain… mutual respect. He would also think it wise to know what I’ve been up to, as I do try to know what he’s been up to.”

I looked down at the book in my hands with apprehension. “Very well… I’ll keep it.”

We left Louisiana that year, and reunited with Pam in France. There we waited for ten more years until it was finally time.

Now we stand at the edge of the precipice. Vampires everywhere are preparing for the Revelation. Russell Edgington has switched sides, and he will be naturally a powerful King in the New Order. I have yet to meet him personally, and to thank him for his gift. It  _ has _  shed some light, though not unveiled the mystery. I have discovered demons and fairies are all related and have traded favors for more than a millennia. I know there was a pact between my ancestors and Cataliades, but I don’t know what the pact was about.

However, I know I’ll find out eventually. I know I’ll meet him again. My fairy friend had told me I could still kill him one day – and I await for that day, and for my answers. I have forever!

I am nervous, I am afraid. But I have Eric. My Maker, my friend, my lover. And whatever happens from here on out, I am not afraid of what I am and how it defines me, I know who I am  - I’m still me.

**\- THE END -**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing this story at least two years ago, I tried to tidy it up for repost the best I could.   
> If you enjoyed your read and would like to leave a comment, go ahead & thank you for reading.


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